Inner Demons
by CyndraofShadowClan
Summary: Something happens to where Italy loses all his friends and their trust. As they walk out, he feels himself drawing closer and closer to the breaking point, to his insanity.
1. Forsaken

This is a one chapter fic, but I have been thinking about turning it into a chapter story. I'm looking for opinions on whoever reads it if I should continue or leave it as is.

I don own Hetalia or it's characters! Italy and Germany would be a couple by now if I did X3

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><p>"Nein!"<p>

The outburst was so sudden the Italian's breath caught in his throat. His voice and breath were shaken beyond the point of hyperventilation and yet he was somehow still stable, still conscious. His eyes were red, sore, and tearstained. His explanation before the outburst had been so quick none of the others could understand his words. They all blended together in a swell of emotion, jumbled words, and pain.

Only one person understood his irrational speech.

"Silence your insane babbling!" the German huffed, eyes turning red from anger. His fists turned white under the black, leather gloves he was wearing. He had lost all feeling in them since Italy started bawling and senseless speaking. "I've had enough of zis." His voice was low, deep, irritated, and, Italy sensed it strongly, disappointing.

Italy lowered his head. His knees held strong even though they visibly shook, barely able to hold him any longer. Those tears seemed to be never ending rivers of pain, flowing from his soul for everyone to see, but when he glanced at everyone around him, they all wore the same faces. Hurt, distrust, hate. Their glares drilled him to his spot, unable to move and of his body, only able to speak.

The Italian was paralyzed.

"Ger…. Ger-m-man… many…." That was all he managed to say before Germany's glare stiffened even harder, if that was even possible.

"I said enough!" There was a sharp crack that echoed through the air. Italy's head twisted to the side, the right side of his face going numb. His eyes widened, unable to make any sense of what had just happened. Without any force to hold him up his legs gave away, bringing him to his knees, able to catch himself with his hands.

Wetness trickled down his face. Setting the tips of his finger, he pulled them away. For a few seconds, he forgot how to breathe. Blood traced through the canals of his fingerprints, overflowing them like red flood. Italy's brown eyes traveled up to Germany's right hand. Between his fingers clutched a small knife. All too quickly, his face stung. The pain merged with the red print that was just forming, but feeling worse on a straight line that etched right below his cheekbone. His heart suddenly felt like it was made of glass; fine and brittle glass that just cracked.

"There's nothing you'll be able to say to mend what you've done," America hissed.

"You've disgraced us as nations," Japan scowled. He turned his head away. "I cannot even bring myself to rook at you any ronger."

France's accent was heavy in his voice. "You're not one of us anymore."

Italy stopped breathing, feeling his heart, and his sanity, breaking with every insult.

"I zought you were better zan zis," Germany muttered.

"We all did," England scoffed. "We were bloody fools for believing him in the first place."

"I can't be here any longer," China muttered before he stormed off.

Soon, everyone left. Russia… Japan… Austria… Spain… England… America… Canada… France… even Hungary left. The only ones left to stop Italy's breaking heart were Prussia, Germany, and his older brother, Romano.

"I'm too awesome for zis bullshit," Prussia snarled, glaring hell at Italy. "Let's go, West."

Italy's eyes snapped open and looked up to see Germany turning away and going with his older brother. "Ger…" He remembered to breathe. "Germany…. Germany! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE! GERMANY!"

Germany stopped at the door and looked back at Italy. "Stop being such a crybaby." The door closed behind him.

The pain shot through his whole body like fire, ice, and lightning all in one. The one person who was always there for him, always there when he needed help, always protecting him when he was weak, was now gone. Walked away without a second thought or care. Only to tell him he's weak, not even looking him in the eyes. No, Italy knew he deserved this after everything that he did. He didn't deserve their love or friendship anymore. And yet…

"You're…. still….." He couldn't finish.

Romano's arms were crossed, not softening his look in the least at his little brother. He was disappointed more than anyone that previously occupied the room. "Veneziano," he managed to growl. "Look at me, you damn idiot."

Italy followed his brother's words, meeting him in the eyes.

"I've never been so disappointed in you all my life. Even if you somehow manage to redeem yourself as a nation, no one will trust you the same again. I trusted you to make the right decisions. Idiot."

"Ro… Romano…." Italy looked down, sobbing, shoulders heaving heavily in unison with his cries. He was going to be alone now. He could see, no, _feel_ even his grandpa turning his back to Italy. Romano would then walk away like all the others, breaking his heart and sending his sanity into the darkest pits of his mind.

Warmth suddenly embraced him, covering up the cold. Italy's heart skipped beats painfully in his chest. "I'm still your brother, idiot." Before he could bear it any longer, Romano let go of Italy and sprinted out of the room, leaving trails of tears in his wake.

So close to the edge Italy was. So close to losing everything in the world. Yet… someone still cared, still had hope for him. But he still walked… ran away.

Italy shut his eyes tight and fisted the cloth over his heart. It hurt horribly, reaching his breaking point. Somewhere in his mind, a rope seemed to be fraying, slowly but fraying nonetheless. Every piece of rope that frayed brought a new sensation through his body. One that made him fear, frightened over a silly rope. Fighting, he knew, would be useless. He wasn't strong enough.

The rope was near its snapping point when it suddenly stopped. A huff came from Italy's throat. Then something else appeared on his face, something that could make anyone fear in pure shock at the sight. A sick, twisted smile appeared on his lips. Italy's eyes morphed from what once were shining, happy, sparkling orbs to dim, dull, and empty. His heart had not broken nor his mind, but they were close enough to give him a good enough taste of what someone without a sane thought felt like.

Slowly, Italy moved his hand to his face and dug his nails into the slash. The pain riddled across his cheek, but he just smiled more, seemingly satisfied. The pain confirmed it. He was still alive. He chuckled. "What…. a shame…." Italy's normal happy, bright voice was gruesomely molded into emotionless air that seeped from his mouth like noxious gas. This insane new Italy stood and walked to the door. "What fun things shall be from here on—"

The insane one clutched his head, pain sung through like the bells of the great Notre Dame Cathedral in France. It seems he had misjudged the sanity inside him after all. Even though Italy had nothing left, he still fought his insane self for victory. Taking it, Italy fell to the ground as a reward. Fear made its presence known inside him. He then knew what to do.

Gritting his teeth he stood, determined. "You won't win against me that easily," he hissed at himself under his breath. If _it_ wanted war, then a war _it_ will receive.


	2. Breaking the Habbit

I own nothing Hetalia related.

Sorry but the chapters are going to be slightly short until I can get better with details and ideas. I never actually planned to continue so the plot is still forming. I hope you all enjoy~! ^^

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><p><em>One… two… three… splash.<em>

The stone sunk to the bottom of the lake, enveloped by the ever-ensnaring darkness.

Italy groaned and sank to the ground. Not twenty-four hours had passed and he had been banned from every country but the northern part of his own. Still shocked at everything that happened, Italy did what he was best at doing, surrendering and fleeing like the coward he was. He realized this.

Another stone, another toss, four skips, sink.

Italy had done his best to suppress the insane persona that had been created in his mind. Italy didn't know when it was show up again or if he'll even be prepared. He didn't know and he really didn't care what the thing did to him. He just had to make sure it never harmed his friends. The thirst for revenge and suffering was great inside the persona.

The quiet peace was nice, though. Just to sit back, relax, and think while Italy had the chance. His mind raced back to the incidents that happened over the last few weeks. Italy didn't understand what the big fuss was all about. Nothing had just seemed to go right, like everyone was turning against him slowly. He knew he did a few things to upset everyone, but they were countries, not humans. Stuff like this happened all the time. Why did it ever matter now?

Italy had gripped the stone hard, turning his knuckles ghost white in the glowing moonlight. He tossed the flat stone with such force that it skipped halfway across the lake before submerging. Pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them, he wanted to cry it still hurt so horribly. The slash on his face had stopped bleeding, slightly, but it still stung as an unfortunate reminder of who dealt the blow to him. His heart churned and twisted with pain it was nearly unbearable. He wondered how anyone could survive anything like this.

Well, he was still alive. All right, how anyone could ever survive the insanity that this would result in if they snapped completely. _Oh, but Germany would~_ he thought in his mind. _Germany's the strongest—_ He groaned and cried out as the pain in his chest increased with every beat of his aching heart.

"You can end it, you know," the deeper voice within him spoke through him. It gave a crazed chuckle before continuing. "It's not that hard really. All you have to do is go to sleep and let me handle things… Yes, like that. Just close those damned innocent eyes of yours and I'll soon be able to spill their blood all over their own countries. Come on. Just a little more and I'll soon—"

"No!" Italy's eyes shot open, fear flooded his vision, blurring it. Everything blended together, not seeming to let up. Images swirled together and crashed against one another. All the blurring started giving him a headache, worse than before even. Shutting his eyes tight and covering his head with his hands, Italy closed the rest of the world off to him. His heart beat like a war drum in his head. Voices whispered, growing louder and louder with every passing second.

The distraught laughter of the persona echoed through his mind, hitting and subduing whatever sanity he had left. Italy's entire body numbed as the world around him was swallowed in darkness. Slowly opening his eyes, Italy looked up to see _it _hovering over him. The persona was dressed in a midnight black suit, smeared with several stains too old and dark for Italy to tell what they were. A white shirt was tucked clean underneath the suit with a blood red tie pressed against it. The suit was complete with black slacks and well polished midnight boots.

Italy stood, speaking, "I'm never going to let you win this." The persona shifted, putting the weight on its other leg, arms crossed, still giving Italy that smile, that god-awful, demonic, overpowering smile. It seemed to be amused with Italy's efforts to control it. Italy scowled. "As long as I still have some reason to live for, I will never give up!"

"A reason?" it questioned in disbelief and delight. "HA! That's what you think, don't'cha? They don't consider you a friend anymore, brat. They don't even see you as a nation." Its goal was simple: get in Italy's head and convince him, more like tell him the truth. Oh what fun it will be to break the Italian down and watch him beg, plead for the insanity to take him over, to end his suffering and pain.

"That doesn't matter anymore. I still love them and consider them friends. That's all the reason I need," hissed Italy.

Its eyes widened as it grasped an idea. Its mouth then curled back into a more insane, sinister smile. "And you think if you make things right that Germany will love you after this?" Seeing Italy's expression was all he needed to keep going. "You loved him, didn't you? Not like the normal friendship love, no, you actually have feelings for the nation. You've gotten in too deep, kid. There's no way he'll ever love you after what you did."

Italy looked down. "You're wrong. I did nothing to them."

The persona put a finger to its chin before looking back at Italy with that damned smile again. "That's right. You really did do nothing." A chuckle escaped its lips, confusing Italy. "Oh how naïve you really are! You never noticed. I've been around longer than this last day, Italy."

Italy's eyes went wide. But how? It was impossible. Italy had never broken down before, he had never had an insane thought cross his mind before. Italy's mind raced through his history, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

…

1812.

Sicily, Italy. South Italy.

"Romano…"

It smiled, "So you finally understand."

Memories flashed behind Italy's eyes. It had begun in 1812 on Sicily. By the 1860's, it had spread throughout all of Italy. Blood, gunfire, hell all rang through Romano and his streets as the mafia stormed through, threatening to take over. Gangs ruled the streets before they were finally suppressed in the 1990's and early years of 2000's. Even with that, knowledge, they still existed among Italy and other places in the world. Italy realized his persona was the mafia incarnate.

"There's evil in every country, you know," it stated matter-of-factly. That accursed smile returned on its lips. "Every. Single. Country, Feli. And none of them die if there are people who still believe in their rights, in their ways, in their uprisings, their creations, their madness."

Italy gasped, breath catching in his throat. His heart seemed to stop and go numb. All the pain inside the organ vanished; Italy actually found it peaceful and nice if it weren't for the persona in front of him. The two stared, glared into each others' eyes. The moment of silence lasted until that chuckle that drove Italy to the edge came back all around him, stalking him, haunting him. _That_ smirk appeared again. Italy knew it was trying to drive him over the edge, to jump off the cliff and fall into the mist below, unknowing, uncaring of what lied beyond the mist whether it was sweet paradise or just plain fire and hell.

"I know you won't be able to stop me, so don't even try to think about it. Just be a good little boy like the coward you are and let me take care of it all. All the pain and suffering will end soon enough. I can promise you that. Once all of us are restored to our full power, there won't be anything you could do, nothing any of you can do. People aren't how they used to be, Feli. Standards in society have changed, going against traditions and religions. You know this is true. Don't you even try to deny it."

Italy's locked eyes forced away from his insane counterpart's, staring off into the darkness around them. It was true, people were changing with the world. He couldn't deny it. He looked back at how things changed in the last hundred years. Respect and love had nearly lost all meaning in some places. Poverty and war broke out more often. People were killing their own planet, taking their countries with it.

His mind wondered to America. He had been getting quite sick lately. He felt so bad for the country. How fucked up his government and healthcare was. How fucked up and twisted the old motto for the country was. _"Land of the free," America had said. Then scoffed. "Free only if you could get rich enough." _Greed. Another thing humans were being consumed with. It disgusted the countries how some humans were nowadays.

Italy dropped to his knees, heart aching once again. Even he could feel his country changing. Not as bad as some, but still changing. He never minded it, though. He had always accepted and embraced change. A hand appeared in his vision.

"All you have to do is take my hand. All the pain will end. There won't be anything to worry about. You'll see your friends again, and your lover. They'll be happy to see you. You won't even have to worry about that scar on your face anymore."

Italy brushed the scar across his face. It stung slightly as the images flooded back of Germany giving it to him. _"Stop being such a crybaby."_ _"Can't you be useful for once?" "Why do I always have to protect you?" "Stand up and fight!" "Stop running away like a coward all the time."_

Italy's eyes hardened and slapped the hand away from him. He stood, standing tall and proud. "Never. I'll never become you or accept you in anyway."

The mafia persona gave him that damn smirk again. "That's alright. I always have the others to count on." With a chuckle, he turned away. "Ciao, brat."

Italy's eyes snapped open. His body shot up and he glanced around furiously. Had it all been a dream? He wondered as he peered out over the lake. It seemed so real, though. The Italian's eyes scanned the ground and stopped, noticing something etched in the ground. Footprints. Boots. Oh, no. It was real! Italy soon realized what the persona's intentions were.

Italy jumped up and started running. He didn't know where he'd run or who he'd run to, but he knew he couldn't let the insane mafia version of him get to anyone else's persona. In the back of his mind, he knew no one would listen. He knew no one would care. None of that mattered. All that mattered was stopping this insanity before it started.

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><p>Well then, now that you all know the basic plan for the story, I need some help coming up with the personas for the other countries. I already have Romano, Prussia, and Germany figured out but I'm stuck deciding the others and could really use some help. And I'm open to anything really, not just gangs. Creatures of myth and legend, people in history, anything. I'd love to hear what you guys have to come up with ^^<p> 


	3. Visions of the Past

I was really hoping this one would've been longer but hell, it ain't DX At least I'm actually getting somewhere, I hope. And hopefully as I get more into what I've planned, the chapters will start to grow.

I own none of the Hetalia characters of the original series. Enjoy~!

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><p>This place was annoying. So very annoying.<p>

_Looked better back in WWII,_ the mafia persona thought to himself. He scowled at the scenes that played out through the German city. Tourists filled the streets window shopping and wishing to have what they couldn't buy, gathering in the parks and restaurants to hang out and have lunch with. It seemed like everyone was out today. This made him sick. He hated large crowds as it was.

No, scratch that.

He hated large crowds laughing and having fun. The thought of them running, scattering like frightened birds or cattle, at the sound of the Tommy guns distributing bullets across the yards and streets. What fun that was back in the day. Looking at the fear in these sad humans' lives to see it leave them as the strays or direct hits pierced their vitals with ease. Humans were such easy prey it was almost sad.

Oh, well. Things will soon be back to normal soon enough. Not even that damned brat coward could stop him. He'd kill the country and take it as his own. With the other's, they'd kill those fool countries and run the world their way. First, he'd have to get his army out of them before he could start anything.

Now where the hell did that Germany live again? God, you thought he'd spend more time paying attention to these things. Nothing even looked familiar to the last time he was awake. It couldn't be that hard, though. Last he knew, Germany had a rather large house in the area. It shouldn't be…

Bingo!

There was a mansion not too far in the distance. The persona picked up his pace to a jog, the mansion being his destination. He smirked. What fun, what fun, what fun, he kept thinking to himself as the building neared closer and closer. He just couldn't stop thinking about what they would do once everyone was together. Well, whatever they planned, it would be fun for sure!

The persona slipped around the back of the house. There wasn't much to it. Just a big yard of grass with a wall around it. Jumping the wall with ease and without being spotted, he made his way to the building. Turning the knob, the back door, to his surprise, was locked. "Huh." He muttered, "Good thing I still remember this from back in the day." He took out two small tools and pushed them through the lock. He twisted and turned them, listening for the clicks. He was definitely rusty at the technique or he would've been inside by now.

The final click and the door knob turned. Smiling in triumph, he pocketed the tools and opened the door slowly, looking around to see if anyone was in the room. Coast clear so far, he thought as he went through several other rooms.

"Hey, West, I'm going out for a little bit!"

He froze. That's right, Prussia was still alive. Two for one? Oh, he loved the sound of that. The persona hid behind a wall, hearing the Prussian's footsteps come down the hallway. Balling his fist, he rounded the corner and threw the punch. Prussia narrowly dodged the punch, feeling the gust blow centimeters from his face.

"Who the hell are—?" Prussia was cut off by a deep pain in the back of his head. The persona gripped his neck, watching Prussia knock out. He brought him off the wall and let him drop to the floor.

"Bruder?"

One down, one to go.

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><p>It was such a quiet day. More quiet than he was used to. Signing off another piece of paperwork, Germany stood up and looked out the window. He had a good view of the city from here. A beautiful one at that. It had been three days and Germany still wasn't used to it. He still expected Italy to barge in at any moment bugging him about going out or if he could make pasta for dinner that night. How the hell did he get into his house when all the doors were locked anyway?<p>

As he stared out the window, his mind wandered to a few weeks back. Blood spewed across the paved streets of Venice. What a horrible scene it was. He was worried about Italy and tried to find him, running all over the city. Germany found him, all right. Standing over freshly killed bodies was Italy, smiling such a twisted smile that even Germany found disturbing. He had locked eyes with the country, something seemed different about him. Like his soul had been sucked from him and all the happiness drained out of him as the blood of his victims ran down his clothes.

As soon as their eyes locked, Italy sprinted off like England was after him. There was no way Germany could've tried to catch up with him. The next day, Germany had returned to the city with his older brother, hoping to get some answers from Italy. When the two brothers found themselves inside the house, they were completely shocked at what they saw. Italy was curled up in bed with a bloody knife, bloodied clothes on the floor, sleeping. Sleeping like nothing happened!

When they got Italy awake, he went hysterical in fright. He had begged and pleaded for Germany and Prussia to believe him, but the evidence against him was too great. It was strange, though. Italy usually never has his eyes open, yet his were when he murdered those people, those innocent humans.

Things just got worse from that point on.

Media flashed with the news about the murder all across the continent. There wasn't a single country that hadn't heard about the news. No one was sure whether to believe it at first or not. Italy had always been a shy, happy-go-lucky coward. There couldn't be any way that Italy could've killed all those people. They had all agreed to have Italy take a polygraph test. After getting Italy to hold still after two hours, he finally answered the questions that were given to him. All his words seemed innocent and honest, some even believing that Italy was being framed.

Then the tests came back.

Every word that seemed honest and innocent was proven false. There wasn't a single country that saw this coming, but they couldn't take the chance to have this happen again. Italy was forced to sit out the meeting that decided his fate. Germany had led the debate, seeking ideas for what should be done. Even though his expression and voice were strong, his heart was breaking underneath at some of the words that crossed the room. Banishment, imprisonment, marooning, capture… execution.

Germany wouldn't have it. Italy needed punishment; he would decide it for him. Even if many disagreed with his judgment they would have to deal with it. Thus decided, Italy would have his country removed from his being, spending the rest of his days as a human, banished from his own country. With help from England's magic, Italy was altered to be a human, giving the northern half of the country to Romano.

That's when Italy lost it. All his emotions had swelled up and out. His slurred and sped up speech was unable to be made out in words to anyone, even Romano. But not to Germany. Germany heard every word the former country had spoke. It drove his head and his heart insane to hear what Italy had spoken of. He couldn't stand anymore of the sound of Italy's breaking heart, unable to bear anymore of it.

"Nein!"

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><p>Germany sighed and went back to his desk. Hitting him had gone too far, even for him. Well, not necessarily, but with Italy being his friend… Italy must hate him for what he did.<p>

"Still thinking about him?"

Aquamarines met rubies. The blonde didn't even hear his brother come in. Looking away, he couldn't deny it. "Ja," was all he said.

Prussia put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "I miss him, too." There was a moment of silence before Prussia left without saying another word. Germany always knew when something deep was bugging his bruder. Gilbert was usually never silent.

"Hey, West, I'm going out for a little bit!" Prussia called.

Germany was curious. Why the sudden decision to go out? Germany pushed the theories from his mind. He had business to work on.

"Who the hell are—?"

Germany rushed to his feet when he heard the slam. He dug a pistol from his desk drawer before making his way to the door. Cracking it, he asked, "Bruder?" No response. Germany jumped through the doorway and aimed down the hallway. The only living thing he saw was his older brother on the floor. Germany noted that he was still breathing, nothing could kill his brother as he was "just too awesome" to die. In his words, of course.

Germany heard a low growl coming from the large living room. Blackie's growl was deep and menacing. Turning the corner, Germany met eyes with the intruder. Blackie stood between them, ears back, growling. Cold, dull, uncaring eyes drilled into his with a sick smile.

"We meet again, Germany."


	4. New Evil

My longest chapter yet! Thanks everyone for the support and ideas. Really helped me figure out some plans for the story.

I own nothing.

Enjoy~!

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><p>Italy ran towards the mansion, furiously out of breath. He pushed himself to make it, hoping he wasn't too late. Italy flew through the gates and ran towards the front door. He closed his eyes in prayer for a moment. "They can't be dead. They just ca—"<p>

_CRASH!_

Italy dropped backwards to the ground. Doors were harder than he remembered.

"Quickly, we must hurry!" a voice came from inside. Italy jumped up and turned the knob. As usual, it was locked. His brows furrowed in frustration before picking something from his pocket and shoving it into the keyhole. Within half a minute, he swung the door open and ran inside. Stopping in the middle of the room, he noted Germany and Prussia on the floor. Drops of blood scattered the carpet but Germany didn't seem to be hurt, nor Prussia.

Kneeling by their sides, Italy watched them breath. It seemed normal, he thought, not really sure what to do. A deep, threatening growl came from the other side of the room. Looking around, he realized that Germany's dogs where surrounding him. He jumped up. "G-Good, doggies. Don't you r-remember me? It's Italy." Aster barked, making Italy jump and cry out. The Golden Retriever lunged at him, scaring him out of his wits and running into another room, closing and locking the doors. All three of the dogs guarded the door, knowing he'd have to come out eventually.

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><p>Wet. Something wet on his face. Smooth and wet. Slobbery was more like it. A whine and panting.<p>

Germany opened his eyes to see Blackie hovering over him. He put a hand on the Sheppard's head. "Good girl," he whispered. Germany sat up and looked around. Gilbert was still out cold. Must've been a hard hit to the head. Pictures and images flashed through his mind from before he passed out when a sharp pain to his head. He couldn't exactly put his mind to who had attacked him and his bruder. The attacker was so familiar but the images were so quick and blurred, he couldn't make out features. All he could remember were dull, dirt colored eyes.

Blackie whined again, bring him back to earth. She looked at him before pointing her snout down a hallway. Following her gaze, he spotted Aster and Berlitz laying down in front of a door. Their ears would perk up every so often to something, or someone, moving inside the room. Pistol in hand, he made his way to the door. He motioned the two guards to back away as he grabbed hold of the knob. Quickly turning it, he shoved the door open and scanned the room, aiming at the first thing that moved.

Italy put his hands over his face in defense. "Germany, please don't shoot me!" he cried out. After a few seconds in silence, Italy lowered his hands and noticed Germany still pointing the gun at him. He bit his lip nervously.

"Vat in ze hell are you here for?" Germany growled, demanding an answer. Cocking his pistol, he added, "If you have anyzing to do vith—"

"I don't have anything to do with any of this. I just know that I was too late."

"Too late? Too late for vat?" Germany stepped into the room, closing the distance between the two. His weapon never lowered even an inch from where it aimed.

"You would have to believe me, Germany. Please, you would have to. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any of this! I didn't mean to let him get out!"

"Let who out?"

Italy paused. He wasn't exactly sure how to describe his insane persona. He didn't even have a name. "I… He has no name, but… he's me but he's not. If you saw him, you would know. His eyes, Germany, his eyes are just so cold and dull, like everything good was sucked out of his life. And he has a smile that just creeps me out just talking about it."

Something clicked in Germany's head. Those eyes. That smile. The memories became clear and a strange image of Italy had appeared behind his eyes. Refocusing on the world again, he looked Italy in the eyes. "How do I know it vasn't you?"

Italy said nothing this time. The only motion he made was his hand, drifting up and setting a finger on the healing scar on his face. Germany's eyes narrowed, clearly remembering that the Italy that attacked him had no scar on his face. He lowered his pistol, for now at least. Italy mentally sighed in relief. "Ven my bruder vakes up, you vill explain everyzing you know, got it?"

Italy nodded, cowering at the hard tone Germany used against him.

When Prussia was finally woken up, they all sat down and the two Germans listened to what Italy had to say. They hadn't interrupted him to ask questions or to voice their opinions, but they just listened to whatever Italy said.

"Dat explains a lot," Prussia said once Italy was finished.

"Ja. It vas true zat Italy did all zis, but not ze one sitting in front of us."

Italy poked his index fingers together nervously. "But what do we do about it? He's already left with your personas. They're going to go after the others as well."

"Zen ve must varn zem." Germany flipped out a cell phone from his back pocket and stepped into the kitchen.

Prussia interrupted the silence. "He's very relieved, you know?"

"Huh?"

"West. He vas vorried about you, kid. He really zought it vas you who killed all of zose people."

"But why would he be worried? He's the one who decided to banish me and turn me human, and to give me this." His fingers brushed the side of his face.

"Banishment vas de only zing he vould allow. Some of zem vanted you executed. West cares about you more dan you zink."

"Germany…" A thought then crossed the Italian's mind. "Prussia?"

"Vas?"

Italy was hesitant at first, but started to speak. "Do you know if Germany—"

"I just finished speaking vith England. I called Romano to let him know you vere safe. He vants to speak vith you, Italy."

Italy shuffled across the room and took the cell phone from Germany. He walked into the kitchen, hesitant to speak with his brother. Soon enough, Italy put the phone to his ear and gave a shaky "hello."

"YOU DAMN IDIOT! WHAT DO YOU THINK-A YOU WERE DOING?"

"Fr-frattelo, I didn't mean to let that thing get to—"

"Not that, you idiot. I mean-a going to that damn potato-eater's house."

Italy sighed. Oh, Romano. Only you could say something like that at a time like this.

He grew serious. "Romano, we need to stop this before they get to anyone else. If that happens…" He didn't want to think about what the world would look like plunged into darkness and misery.

"I know. That potato-bastard has planned for us to meet up, and you will discuss what is-a happening."

"But with all of us meeting, all of you will be targets. It'd be like handing you all over to them."

"It's three of them against how many of us?"

Romano had a point.

"Oh, and get England to give-a you your half of the country back. I can't stand being part of a country full of idiots." Romano hung up without another word.

Italy clamped the phone shut before returning to the living room. Germany and Prussia ceased their conversation to glance at Italy, noticing how serious his aura and expression was. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"God damn it! Not so tight!"<p>

"Quit moving zen! It von't hurt so much."

The silver-haired man watching the two sighed as he slapped his forehead. They may be the darker versions of their countries, but they still acted like their counterparts, to a fair extent anyway. "Both of you are ridiculous. Just get a room already."

The mafian glared at the Nazi and chucked the rest of the bandages at him. "If that damn Germany hadn't shot me in the first place." He had to admit, though, he did charge at the German before knowing his skills better. He picked up the bullet the Nazi counterpart had dug out of his shoulder. Such a little thing caused so much pain. What other weapons had evolved since then? What would their strengths reach?

The Germany counterpart stood back. "Zere. Now you can stop complaining." He looked over at his brother, snickering to himself. "Vas?"

In response, the Prussian just shook his head.

The Italian persona looked the two Nazis over, finally getting the chance to. They both wore black, everything was black. The flat hats on their heads, adorned with a gold, wing-spread pendant on each. Under the suit was a dark grey shirt for the Prussian with the German having a white one underneath. Both their suits where black, decorated with silver trimmings and an iron cross. A large belt was strapped on their waists over the suit. The pants were both black and tucked under black knee-high boots, although the older brother had his pant legs not tucked into the boots. Their uniforms weren't all that extravagant, but they really didn't need to be flashy to show their intensions. The last detail the Italia kept staring at was the red strap on their left arms with the swastika encircled in white.

The mafian refocused and looked at the two Germans, just realizing something. "We need something to call each other."

"Why not just refer ourselves as our countries?" the Nazi Germany asked.

"Pfft," the Prussian scoffed with a 'ha!' "I'm too awesome to be sharing my name vith my counterpart's."

"Zen vas do you decide?"

Nazi Prussia put a finger to his lip in thought. He then snapped his fingers. "Reinhard!"

"I see." Nazi Germany thought. "Zen I shall be referred to as Adolf."

They both turned to the Italian. He just smirked, sending a slight chill through them before exchanging glances. The smirk neither scared nor intimidated them. Just the thought of someone like Italy having a persona like this gave them chills. Even they never expected this. "Cesare," he said simply.

"It's decided zen!" Reinhard exclaimed. "Dis is going to be fun. Haha! So much fun!"

"Quiet down, you. We're still not out of hearing distance yet," Cesare snapped, shushing the Prussian.

Adolf grabbed his chin and brought their faces close. "So all zat screaming vas just for fun?"

Reinhard laughed to himself, noticing the light blush appear on Cesare's face. "Get out of my face!" Cesare pushed Adolf's face away and turned, changing the subject. "Our next target should be someone who could benefit us greatly, help us get the others easier. I say we should get China. Things should be rather easy with him."

"Vas about England? He's ze one dat knows magic. It could make it easier for us to pull ze others out," Reinhard suggested. "He would be easy to take out anyway."

"We can't kill them, not yet anyway," Cesare said. "We have to conquer their countries before we can kill them; overrun them with our power and slowly torment them to death."

The brothers raised an eyebrow. They could get used to this side of the Italian nation.

Adolf spoke, "Ve should split up, zen. It should be quicker to take zeir counterparts."

Cesare nodded. "Very well. We'll all meet in Venice. You know where." The mafian walked off, disappearing into the trees.

The two left behind nodded before separating as well. Adolf headed South, as far South as Europe could possibly take him. He had a certain bone to pick with a certain Italian.

* * *

><p>Romano hung up the phone and stared at it for a few seconds. He didn't realize how the situation would make his brother so serious. Clenching it in his hand, he felt a pang of worry in the pit of his gut. He wasn't sure if Veneziano knew what he was getting himself into, being as serious as he was. Veneziano wasn't serious, he wasn't mean, and he wasn't even strong or brave. No, scratch that last part. He was strong, mentally. He had a strong heart. His body was weak as a twig, but his heart was strong.<p>

"You damn idiot, Veneziano. You need to know when to-a stand down when you should." If he kept this up, he'd be killed. Not that any of them would actually let that happen. Romano stuffed the phone back in his pocket. On the brighter side, he might actually stop being so damn hyper all the time when this is all over.


	5. The Wicked Ones

I own nothing, I only wish I did XD

Oh, and if anyone is confused with the timeline here, just comment and I'll explain it in the next chapter. Thanks ^^

* * *

><p>"Gottverdammt, Gilbert! Vat ze hell is taking you so long?" Germany yelled from the outside of a gas station bathroom, slamming his fist into the door.<p>

"You try drinking eight Monsters on a three hundred kilometer drive vith no breaks and see how bad you have to piss!"

Italy just watched from the sidelines at the two as others had observed and made curious faces but never asked nor wanted to. Prussia had been in the bathroom for six minutes now. Their destination was Rome, Italy, where they had all decided to have the meeting. The meeting was a day away, but they wanted to make sure to get there with time to spare.

"Maybe if you could pull over every fifty kilos then ve vouldn't have dis problem!" Prussia stepped out of the bathroom and walked – awesomely I might add – out of the gas station.

Germany sighed, Italy by his side. "Sometime I vonder how you're ze older bruder."

"'Cuz I'm awesome, dat's how." He flashed a big grin as he jumped in the passenger side of the car, Italy hopping in the back seats. When they continued their drive, the two still went at it, wondering how Prussia wasn't dead from the possibility of a caffeine overdose. It all soon ended as Prussia crashed and knocked out after about an hour.

Italy was then daydreaming about things, events that have happened and those that will happen. He imagined their outcomes, all of them, but prayed for the brighter ones to be the conclusion to this story rather than the darkest of them all. Veneziano grazed his fingers across his scar. It had fully scabbed over; it was starting to heal. A glint of happiness flashed through Italy's eyes. After hearing what Prussia had to say, he was glad that he had the scar. It made him happy that Germany had given it to him in protection instead of disgrace and disappointment.

While Germany drove, he was equally thinking over things like Italy, glancing every so often in the rear view to catch a look at his face. No matter how he looked, that scar would be there forever, never leaving that flawless face. Woah, hold on. Flawless? Germany looked back at the road and passed a car, hitting close to 130kph. He couldn't think like that at a time like this. And yet, his eyes glanced back into the rear view once again.

Germany finally spoke, "Italy?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, Germany?" Germany had pulled him out of a fond daydream he had imagined for some time now, a few hundred years already, since the day they met. Well, maybe not exactly the first day, but around that time, yes.

"I'm sorry, Italy. I shouldn't have gone so far as to hurt you." Italy blinked, and Germany took a mental note. His eyes were always open now, ever since that day when he had seen him cry more than ever before. His eyes never closed at all, only to sleep.

A smile appeared on Italy's face. "Don't be, Germany. You only did it to protect me from the others. Prussia told me about it. Thank you, Germany." His smile got brighter, making Germany smile even though he didn't want to.

"Danke. For understanding."

Italy leaned forward onto the right shoulder of the seat. "I will always be your friend, Germany. We made a promise, didn't we?"

"Zat's right." Knowing that Italy understood and accepted it made Germany feel better. No matter what happened between the two, they would always be friends throughout it all.

* * *

><p>Reinhard shuffled through the brush, watching, waiting for his prey to appear. The Nazi had been sitting in wait for hours near the house. The only reason he hadn't broken down the front door was not to alert his victim. He needed to ambush the nation, catching him easily enough by surprise to where he could knock him out fast enough to separate his counterpart.<p>

He allowed himself to get distracted in his thoughts for a moment or maybe even a few more. Waiting and watching were getting quite boring. He grew curious as to what the English nation would split off to be. He had a good guess, but he could never be too sure. Who knows what gangs or murderers could've risen up in England… His thoughts paused and he laughed to himself. Was he actually thinking that? No gang or human born could compare to one group of people that choose the path of—

The noise made Reinhard refocus onto the world. The sound of well polished shoes clicking against the smoothly paved stone that lead its way through the grounds to the main gate. Reinhard noted how it was un-awesome to have almost missed his chance, but he could beat himself up for it later. As England neared, he positioned himself, ready to pounce his prey like a lioness who eyed hungrily at the antelope. When suddenly…

England stopped.

"You can come out, I know you're there."

Reinhard was hardly surprised. He didn't expect England to be easy to take down. Reluctantly, the Nazi stepped out of the bushes, brushing the leaf off that seemed to be glued to his hat. He seemed to grin as England's expression changed. This person, this thing, that stood before the blonde was far from what he expected. "Remember me, old friend?"

"What… Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Don't you remember? Vorld Var Two, England. I know you remember me more dan any of us."

England's eyes went wide for a moment before throwing knives with the glare he gave. "You bloody fucking Nazi! How dare you even show your face around here!"

Reinhard laughed, thrusting his head back. "You forget who I am!"

England opened his hands and a white orb appeared in it. "I may not be the only one." Seconds later, England threw the misting orb at the Prussian, who easily dodged the simple attack.

Reinhard drew a pistol from his holster, a well used but well taken care of Walther P38. "A fluffy ball of light? How cute," he sneered sarcastically. England didn't seem fazed by this.

In fact, he smirked.

An explosive pain engulfed and glassed around Reinhard's arm. That cute little ball of white fluff was a heat-seeking, explosive little ball of white fluff. When it hit the Nazi's arm, it detonated, sending burns and blisters sizzling across his skin. His arm fell limp, numb from pain for the moment. He brought his pistol up and gave three firmly aimed shots. England's hand waved up, summoning a shield that ricocheted the bullets away.

"Scheiße…" The Prussian grinded his teeth in thought, ignoring the searing, flesh burning pain that flared his arm. He couldn't worry about that right now. He had to think, and fast. Taking an egg shaped item from his jacket, he unpinned the object and tossed it at England before backing away himself. The grenade exploded, flinging shrapnel everywhere. Reinhard lifting his hand over his face to avoid any getting caught in his eyes. A few speckled his arm before removing them and went in for another distraction.

England had gotten a shard stuck into his back, pulling it out to see it was part of the bomb's shell. Who knew how bad that could be rusted. He would definitely need to disinfect that wound later. He glanced up to see the Prussian counterpart only ten feet away, just standing there. Why was he just—

A click sounded on the ground next to him. England scanned the ground to find another grenade only a few feet away. Nearly jumping out of his skin, he made a run for it. He hadn't been able to get away for long before the grenade detonated. The force sent England to the ground onto his stomach with a grunt. "Bollocks," he muttered under his breath. England pushed himself up with his hands before a heavy, powerful boot set on his back and forced him back down.

Reinhard said nothing. Nothing at all. All England could see was him standing over him with that smirk. "Let ze blackness envelope your soul," he muttered before using the butt of the pistol to knock the nation out.

* * *

><p>Cesare rubbed his sore head. Fuck, how could he have forgotten that damned forsaken wok of China's? Why would anyone use a wok, anyway? It's like a fucking rolling pin! Cesare jumped out of the way of China's strike. Shit, stop getting distracted! Cesare parried the wok with his baseball bat and swung at China, barely missing him by centimeters. "Hold still for two fucking seconds, will ya?" If only he could reach his Tommy gun. China had knocked it out of his hands in the first few seconds of the fight, flying several yards away. And China wasn't going to let Cesare get it that easily.<p>

"Maybe you should learn to fight, then, aru," China said matter-of-factly. "You lost your touch. You were better last time I saw you fight, aru."

Cesare snarled. Not being able to fight in years took a toll on him, but he wasn't about to let being out of practice get to him now. The Italian swung his bat again only for it to be blocked by that damn wok yet again. Next came that ladle, slapping him across the face. The air disappeared from his lungs as the wok smashed into his chest and stomach. Cesare backed off a ways to catch his breath, although China wasn't going to allow him to regain any strength.

The Asian nation rushed to him and struck the mafian with the wok again, sending him to the ground. China stood over him, joisting the ladle at his face. "I will now hold you as my prisoner, aru. Any objection or fighting back will result in punishment."

Cesare scoffed, "You think you've beaten me already?" Without warning, Cesare reached into his jacket and whipped out a small, but very efficient gun, one of his favorites next to the Tommy gun. Without hesitation, he took a shot at his opponent. China immediately put up his wok in defense, hoping the bullet would not penetrate the metal. Lucky for him, it didn't. The small bullet made a soft dent in the bottom of the wok but hardly a hit from what another weapon could've done.

Yao looked over his wok, shock spilling over his face. Where had that traitor gone to? "Looking for someone, Yao?" Cesare chuckled maniacally, at China's reaction. His precious Tommy gun held firm and fit in his hands. "I'll riddle you with holes until there's nothing left of you!" Finger on the trigger, he twitched it, pulling back.

A flash of light and a slice blinded the air for a quick second. The Tommy gun had split its odd, new weight to both hands. Cesare was stunned, completely and utterly. His beautiful Tommy gun was split in two. How was it even possible?

"I suggest you reave now unress you want to become international sushi."

Cesare quickly backed away from Japan. "Damn it," he swore. "Always have to ruin the fun, don't you?" Knowing he would never handle himself against two nations skilled in ancient martial arts, Cesare hauled ass out of there as fast as he could.

A few moments passed in silence between the two nations. They were both thinking the same thing. "Do you think that was Italy, aru?"

"It is possible, but I have never know Itaria to be so…" he searched for the right word "sadistic." That seemed fitting to the situation.

"Maybe this is what this next meeting is about, aru. Germany said it was a very serious situation."

"Hai. Rome is onry about a day away now. We should hurry."

Responding with a nod, China strapped his wok and ladle onto his back. Japan sheathed his katana swiftly. "Although, I do have a bad feering about this."

* * *

><p>"Are you fucking kidding me? He doesn't know any magic?" boomed Cesare's voice in disbelief.<p>

Glowing green eyes glared at the Italian. "I'm a bloody pirate! What in the rat's ass did ye figure?"

Cesare inwardly twitched. Rat's ass? And he had to get used to that kind of slang with that gruff voice? This explained a lot about England. He shook his head. "Forget it, you're still useful. I've heard stories about you pirates. I expect to be impressed by your skills."

"Ye won' be disappointed."

Cesare smiled in thought. "Just save the trash talk for the victims." He then turned to Reinhard who had shirked off in his thoughts again, looking over his bandaged arm. He kept pulling and adjusting in different places, saying Cesare had no bandage experience while he wrapped the Prussian's arm after applying some poultice from some plant to relieve the pain. "And what of England?"

Reinhard moved his eyes down to Cesare's. "Alive," he smirked, "but von't be able to valk straight for about a veek."

Cesare nodded, very satisfied, before returning his attention back to the pirate. "You need a name. Pick one out for yourself like we did ours. Something that'll strike fear into our enemies that know our names."

The pirate England thought for a moment, adjusting his large hat, flipping the fluff out of his field of vision. "Ah, me name will be Edward."

"Ve should probably be heading to Rome since Adolf has not returned yet," Reinhard suggested. "He might've found out about ze vorld meeting."

"In that case, we need to head there. The travel will only be a few hours. We'll have an advantage to capture all of them and then split off their counterparts." He glanced at Edward with a sly smile. "Want to help us jack a car?"

* * *

><p>Romano stood by the door, waiting. His brother had called and said the three of them would be there in ten minutes… half an hour ago. He sighed in frustration. What was taking his stupid brother and those kraut-breaths so long to get here? The meeting was to be held tomorrow and he wanted to see his brother safe. While the minutes ticked by slowly, he inwardly grew more worried.<p>

A strange aura stopped his breath, nearly making him forget how to breathe. The aura was as bad as Russia's, if not worse. His skin tingled with a sudden chill. What the hell, it was 32 degrees Celsius here. There was no way he could get cold.

A hard growl made him swivel his whole body around. He didn't get a good look at the person before they slammed him into a column on the deck. Romano's heart started to beat in his ears. There was something so familiar about this aura, this presence that made him fear for his life. Looking up, a strong hand had grabbed him by the shirt collar. No way to escape. Going higher, he met piercing blue eyes boring into his. "Y…Yo-you," he managed to stutter.

"You may have gotten avay last time," Adolf hissed, lifting the Italian to eye level. "Don't zink I have forgotten vas you've done."

"Wh-what do you want?"

Adolf's eyes hardened, making Romano shrink back. "I vant to hear you beg for death."

Romano squeaked in horror. Terrible images glimpsed through his mind. He know what the Nazi's did in the camps and the rumors about the Gestapo's torture methods. _Damn it, Veneziano, where are you?_


	6. Distorted Genes

Italy twiddled his fingers together in anxiety. How did Germany's car get a blown out tire anyway? It was impossible; he took care of it so well. He waited on the side as Germany and Prussia were changing the tire. They were lucky he always kept a spare in the trunk. The boy was still nervous, though. They told Romano they'd be there in ten minutes. It had been a half an hour later when they finally finished. "I hope Romano is all right," Italy muttered as Prussia started up the car.

"He'll be fine, Italy. He is your bruder after all," Germany reinsured.

Italy nodded, though there was something pulling at his gut, telling him he needed to hurry. "Please hurry, Gilbert. I have a bad feeling…."

The albino nodded and sped off, going as fast as the highway would allow him. He quickly exchanged a glance with Germany. Twins had some weird connections going on, but they were both Italy. Could Feli know something they didn't?

Romano said he'd be waiting out on the porch for them. He wasn't there. Veneziano bit his lip, trying his hardest not to burst out of the car before it stopped, but when it halted, there was no stopping him.

"Italy! Vait for us!" Germany yelled behind him, scrambling out the door. He followed the brunette into the house but lost him at that point. He relied on his ears instead of his eyes to guide him, following the frantic Italian's footsteps. Out of habit, he tenderly rested his hand on the hilt of his pistol and started walking towards Feliciano.

"ROMANO!"

Germany burst out into a full sprint towards the scream. He nearly ran past the basement door until he noticed the lights were on downstairs. Prussia had caught up to Germany but was quieted before saying anything. The two of them hurried down the steps. The basement was fairly clear of debris, just some old stuff from the past settled to collect dust, really. They saw Italy on his knees blocking their view of the older Italian, begging Romano to wake up through tears. When the two Germans walked over, their eyes enlarged at what lied before them.

"Help me get him upstairs!" Italy pleaded, barely glancing at them before turning to his brother again. Germany said nothing and stepped forward, picking up the unconscious nation.

Italy was by his side all day, not leaving him alone, only leaving when someone else was there to watch him. The hours dragged by slowly waiting for him to awaken. His wounds were deep and severe; he was even lying in his own blood when they found him. Any longer and he might've…

"Bastard…" Veneziano looked up at his brother's face. His eyes weren't open, but his breathing had increased. "You…. You said-a… ten minutes…" He then opened his eyes slightly to stare at his younger brother adding, "Idiot."

Italy smiled. "It's good to see you awake, Romano."

Romano sipped his coffee at the table. "My head hurts like a bitch," he muttered. His bare, bandaged chest rose and fell somewhat shaky. Italy could tell he was still weak from what happened. A large amount of bandage covered most of his chest and stomach, covering the carved swastika underneath.

"So vat exactly happened to you?" Prussia finally asked.

"Why should I tell you? I have a fucking right not to talk to any of you fucking potato-fags."

"Romano," Italy said, reminding him this was not the time to insult allies.

Romano looked away but then looked fiercely at Germany. "Nazi." He then looked away again, not saying anything else on the subject. The three others looked at each other in silent agreement. They were all too late to stop Romano from being split.

"Who knows how many others they have taken from us," Italy muttered.

"Ze could have all of our counterparts or none of zem," Germany said.

"Ve know for sure dat dere are four of dem," Prussia stated. "It vould be horrible if zey had more."

As Prussia and Germany chattered to themselves about the issue, Italy watched his brother slip off. Maybe Romano would talk to him, Italy thought. So he followed his brother to his room and shut the door behind him. "Romano?" he asked.

Romano stood by the window, leaning his palms against the sill. The warm night air wafted into the room, tenderly touching the wraps on Romano's torso and arms. "Idiot," he said in a low voice. It sounded less harsh than it usually would be. "Can't you just-a leave me to myself for two minutes?"

Italy frowned some.

"Fratello." Italy laid a soft, caring hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's no good to be alone." Without a response, he continued. "What did he do to you?"

His tone turned harsh again. "I don't have to answer you." He pushed Veneziano's hand off his shoulder but it was replaced by a tender hug. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Veneziano," he warned.

"Please tell me, fratello. It won't help keeping it all in."

Romano wanted to struggle but it only made the wounds ache more. He gave up. His breathing shook faintly and his shoulder gave a light heave. "No… Veneziano. I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because…" He lifted a hand over his eyes. "You shouldn't have to-a see me…. Not like this…"

Italy paused for a moment. Despite everything, his brother wanted to be strong in front of him. Feliciano could almost feel his brother fighting to let it go. "I don't care, fratello. Everyone needs someone to be there to catch them when they fall or to be a shoulder for them to cry on."

"V-Veneziano…" Romano buried his whole face in his hands. "You… you id-iot." Silent tears flowed from Romano's eyes as his shoulders jerked with his gasps. "I didn't even see him come. He was just there… It felt like Russia was standing right next to-a me. I was… I was thrust against the column on the porch. He said he wanted r-revenge for what I did to him back in World War Two. He… wanted me to… to beg for death." Romano's mind replayed what had happened as he told his story.

* * *

><p><em>"Let-a go of me, you fucking Nazi!" Romano screamed as Adolf dragged him down to the basement. No one would hear the nation scream here. <em>

_Adolf tossed the frightened Romano against the wall and took out a long, jagged dagger. The sharp blade pressed up against Romano's jugular, stopping his breath in his throat. "I don't zink insults vould be a good idea right now. Not for you." The tip of the blade pressed into Romano's shoulder, earning a grunt from pain. Adolf wondered if it would be fun trying to get Romano to scream. The knife then scrapped against the bone; a whimper in pain was given. It might be fun after all._

_Several more cuts, deep cuts and stabs, had been given to Romano. Adolf was quite surprised at how he hadn't screamed out loud yet. Adolf gripped a weak hand in his open, spreading the fingers. "Let us see how you like it."_

_The Italian knew what he implied. "No, no," he begged. "Mio Dio, no." A scream sounded through his mouth as the blade sliced through his palm and out the back of his hand._

"_Does it hurt, Italian?" He pressed the blade further, earning a softer cry. The blade left the wound but burned as something wet and hungry slithered up the wound. The metallic liquid tasted good on the German's tongue._

_Adolf took the knife and… and then…_

* * *

><p>Romano's sobs caught up with his story, unable to continue. Italy knew what happened, though. He had seen the symbol on his chest. That's all he needed to know what happened next. They both stood there in silence, Italy still holding Romano in his arms. The only sounds in the room were Romano's variable sobs. They were mostly quiet to barely audible, but every now and then there was one that would gain volume.<p>

* * *

><p>"You need to tell him soon, bruder."<p>

Germany looked at Gilbert questionably. "Vas? Tell who vat?"

"Don't play dumb vith me, bruder. You know vas I mean." A light blush crossed Germany's cheeks as he looked away. He didn't want to admit, but he knew Prussia was right. "Ve don't know how dings vill go in de near future. You should tell him. It's not awesome for you to hide dese zings."

"After ze meeting," Germany said.

"Nein, zat von't do at all. Do it during de meeting."

Germany threw him a surprised face. "In front of everyone?"

"Ja! Zink how awesome it vill be! Everyone vill know how you feel about him. He'll know how you feel. C'mon, just do it."

"Fine."

* * *

><p>"Yo, Matt, need any help with your bags?" the American asked when they grabbed their bags from the pick-up conveyor belt.<p>

"No, it's all right," smiled the other quietly. "Where was the meeting supposed to be taking place again?"

"The city hall place, I guess. I can't remember the name of it. We'll just have to ask the taxi once we get one." A vibration came from the pocket of his bomber jacket. Taking out his phone, he answered. "Hey, dude, what's up?"

"America, I'm calling to let you know zat ze meeting place has been changed to Romano's place. It's urgent zat you get here asap," Germany said over the phone.

"Woah, why the sudden change?… All right… Ok, we're on our way."

"Who was that?" Canada asked while America waved over a taxi driver.

"Germany called to change the meeting place. Says it's urgent." They placed their bags in the trunk and sat in the back seats. Canada gave the driver the address, punching it into the gps, and drove away from the airport.

"I hope everything is all right," Canada muttered in his usual quiet tone.

"Everything will be once the hero gets there!" America smiled triumphantly, a glint coming off his eyes.

Canada could only sigh slowly facepalm for his friend.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Lovi! What have they done to you? If only Boss Spain had been—"<p>

"Let go of me, tomato-bastard!" Romano demanded as Spain threw his arms around the southern nation not long after arriving and seeing the bandages on Romano's arms and face. "Would you-a let go of me?" Romano gave a sharp whack on Spain's head, hoping to have him let go, but it didn't work. "They still hurt, bastard!"

When Spain heard that, he released Romano, giving him an apology. "What happened to you, Romano?"

"It's best not to ask right now," Italy said. "Everything will be explained once the others get here."

Spain nodded and took the seat next to Romano. There were a few others there that included France, England- who had came with France and Spain on crutches, Russia, Japan, and China. All they needed were America and Canada and they could start the meeting.

"Dude, sorry we're late," America apologized after taking 15 minutes. "The cab wouldn't take dollars so Canada had to pay. I'll totally pay ya back."

"That's fine. Don't worry about it," Canada said, slightly irritated. The quiet nation let it slide. It wasn't much to worry about.

China started, "Now that we are all here, what is this about, aru?"

Italy stood, nearly surprising everyone. The others had expected Germany to stand and announce the meeting and explain like always. This was surely a change. "Some of you may know more about it, some may not, but something has come against us. They're not aliens like the last time." He paused, trying to figure out exactly how to explain things. He glanced over at England. "It's a lot worse."

"What could be worse than aliens?" America asked.

England spoke this time, "What's worse did this to me, git. How would you like to have a ghost of your past, better yet a Nazi, coming up your lawn and slashing your calves?"

"I was attacked as well, aru," China said, pointing to Italy. "It was like you but without the scar."

Italy touched the scar on his face for a quick moment. "It's my fault this all started, really. If I had never let that thing split out of me, it wouldn't be running around now trying to get all of yours, too."

"All of our what?" Russia wondered.

"Ve are not quite sure, but ve have a good guess," Germany said, taking over for Italy. "It seems that vasever bad history ve have, it takes its own personality, like a persona. Zat is vas I saw at Venice, not Italy."

"But how did that persona come out in the first place?" Spain asked.

Everyone looked at Italy for the answer. The Italian froze. "I-I…. um… I…."

"Calm down, will you?" Romano harshly said. "It's not like-a we can't believe you now."

Italy nodded but still hesitated. He wasn't quite sure how it happened himself. "I…I'm not even sure. When Germany and Prussia came to my house, I was napping. When they woke me up, I felt so tired and weak, like I do when I train with Germany. What was really odd is that I went napping on a Sunday. When they woke me up, it was Monday."

"And you remember nothing from what happened between that time, aru?"

Italy shook his head. "The only thing I remember is having a bad dream. I… It was back when they nearly took over our country, running wild in the streets. All the crime that went on and the blood that was spilled. The cries from the innocents. It felt like I was back there again, fighting against them, trying to take them down. Then I was woken up."

"The dream must've caused a subconscious break with that mafia side of him and forced itself to reawaken," England figured. "That's the only thing I can think of."

Russia asked, "But who has it already attacked and taken from the others?"

"Bruder and I have been," Prussia spoke. "De two of us vere Nazis. Romano and Italy are mafia." He looked at England for a moment. "Vell?"

"Knowing my luck, it'd be a pirate."

"Who knows what all of our other personas will be," Italy said in a low voice.

"Then we will just have to stop them before we find out," France spoke for the first time since he arrived. "It is five of them against twelve of us. How hard can it be?"

Prussia nudged his younger brother, earning a hard look. Prussia ignored it and gestured at Italy with a quick nod who had taken his seat once again.

"As long as we stick together, aru."

"Itary's counterpart took off after I arrived to aid China. We are a greater threat as rong as they don't sprit us up." Japan read the atmosphere. Everyone was tense on the situation, except Russia somehow. Nothing ever scared him, only his younger sister Belarus.

"C'mon, man, dis isn't awesome," Prussia whispered to Germany.

"Gottverdammt, Gilbert," Germany growled.

"You said you vould."

"I know vas I said, but—"

"If you two are going to continue whispering throughout this whole meeting, then what was the point, aru?" China shot at them. He was really starting to get annoyed at their constant whisperings.

"If it is important than we all need to hear it," France finished.

Prussia crossed his arms and looked at his brother. "Might as vell, bruder."

"Prussia, I really zink zis can vait till aftervards." In his mind, Germany gave out a small apology.

"You are so stubborn sometimes."

Prussia shook his head. "Continue vith de meeting," he muttered. It was so unawesome how his brother was too serious for his own good sometimes. And stubborn.


	7. Sweet Dreams

The meeting ended, but no one left the house. Everyone was staying there for the night until they could all gather supplies to hunt down the copies. They all chatted about how they would be taken down or how strong they actually were. While that was going on, Prussia pulled Germany into the kitchen, saying they'd get something to drink for all of them.

"So?" Prussia asked, looking at his brother as he took out various sized cups and glasses. Three mugs of tea for Japan, China, and England. A bottle of vodka for Russia. Two wine glasses for France and Italy. Four coffee mugs for Romano, America, Spain, and Canada. Lastly, two bottles of beer for him and his bruder.

Germany put a kettle on the stove to boil for the tea while he set up the coffee to brew. "Vat?" Germany of course knew what his brother was going to say. He just didn't need to hear it again.

"You know vat, bruder." Prussia traveled over to the fridge to bring out the bottles, handing Germany one of the beers.

The bottle cap bent with the bottle opener and was trashed. The fizzing liquid felt good running down his throat. He felt like he hadn't had one in a few weeks. Something made him suddenly curious. "Vy does Romano have all zis in his house?" He gave the liquid a swish in the bottle before adding with a mutter, "Cazolics." Prussia lifted his eyebrow in question and Germany brushed off the subject. "Vat is going on is more important, bruder. Ja, I know it's important, but ve have to focus on getting ze copies taken down first."

"And vat if one of us dies? Vat den? If he vere to die?"

"Don't be stupid, Prussia, ve can't die. If so, you vould be dead."

Prussia took another gulp of his beer. "I had to join your country, bruder. I didn't die. I vill return. My awesomeness can't be held in forever." Prussia paused, noticing how he got off topic. "As I vas saying, you need to let him know."

Germany didn't say anything, thinking about what Prussia said. Prussia walked over and set a hand on Germany's shoulder. Without saying anything else, he took the vodka and coffees into the living room. Germany brought in the teas and wines, handing them out to those who requested it.

Italy took the wine glass and sloshed it around lightly, watching the red, velvety liquid stir inside. He had been in his own thoughts so much after the meeting that he didn't pay attention to anything or anyone else. Ok, he lied to himself. Everything and everyone was one his mind. It was hard not to think about what would happen when this was all too real.

His heart skipped a slow beat.

Well, almost too real.

There was one thing missing, one great thing.

"Italy, dude." The voice snapped the Italian out of his thoughts. He only gave America a side glance without a word to say. "Are you all right, man? You've been out of it all evening."

France answered for Italy. "How can he not be? How would you feel if you thought you started this whole thing and everyone banished and hated you?"

"Hey, you were against him, too!"

"Get over it, git. We all were blind and should've believed the kid. He's never lied like this before. We had no right."

Romano threw a hard look at Germany. "I am surprised you didn't believe him, at least have a little-a faith in him like I did."

"You still ran, too, Romano," Italy piped up.

Romano blinked and looked away, glaring at nothing in particular. His little brother was right.

"He is right, zough. I should've believed you," Germany managed to say. Pink crossed his cheeks as he looked at the once bright and happy northern nation. "After all, you vere ze one zat vanted to be my friend in ze first place. You vere never scared of me. Danke schön."

Italy only gave a warm smile, a smile that anyone could've been happy to see. "But, Germany, you helped me out more. You were always there to protect me, no matter how weak or how much of a coward I was. You were able to put up with me when a lot of people wouldn't be able to or wouldn't even care to. I should be the one thanking you."

"Ja but—"

"No buts, Germany. We both did good things to help each other… even after I betrayed you after the war, you still took me as a friend and made that everlasting alliance with me. I also gave you the opportunity to know what true friendship was like. You're my best friend forever, Germany."

Silent settled warmly in the room. It almost felt like the warm air from a low, flickering fire in the hearth had spread and seeping into everyone's heart. For someone sniffled as if on cue for a movie scene.

"That was so cute, dude. Not that I'm crying or anything."

Germany guided his eyes away from Italy's, nodding. "You… You are my best friend as vell."

"Aw, vat? No kiss?" Prussia asked cheekily.

"I vill punch you in ze zroat!" Germany jumped up, making Prussia jump back slightly.

* * *

><p>All the furniture had been moved out of the living room to make room for all of them to sleep. Thankfully, Romano had enough pillows and blankets for everyone. They all had decided to share the room in case anything was to happen while they slept. When they had first fallen asleep, they were all in certain spots. Romano, who had pushed away from Spain, was sleeping near the doorway, which was thoroughly locked, to the kitchen. Spain was nearby. Russia was snoozing soundlessly, back against the wall, by one of the windows which the curtains were pulled to block the view inside. England was nestled into a chair with France parallel on the other side of the room. Germany slept with a frightened Italy clinging to him by the far wall. Prussia was nearby snoring softly. Japan lay silent against a wall, no one sure if he was asleep or not. America was sprawled out with Canada by his side. Finally, China stayed awake on watch, leaning against a wall for support, hot tea in his hands.<p>

The summer night wasn't too hot but it was brisk and the warmth from the sun still lingered ever so gently in the air. China gave a smooth breath rippling across his tea before sipping it. It was just the way he liked it. His eyes lingered around at all the other nations that slept. He had to admit that they all looked peaceful, even America with his arms and legs in the strangest positions. He didn't mind staying up to keep watch. Germany was to relieve him of it in about six minutes anyway.

China glanced at the slow ticking clock on the wall. 4:24. They really did get to sleep late. Sipping the tea again, he stared at everyone again, dragging himself into his own thoughts. The immortal nation hoped that things would go well for them, all of them. He thought back to how a similar situation had brought them together like this and brought them out of it by working together. All the nations; as one world.

_At least it's not aliens, aru,_ he thought with a grimace, swigging the last of his tea and setting the cup aside. He grasp the back of his head and pulled the pony tail out, letting his long, black hair fall onto his shoulders. Time to rest.

He silently walked over to where Germany slept and knelt beside him. "Germany," he said. The blonde opened his eyes at the voice, looking up at China. "It is time for you to take watch, aru."

"Danke," muttered a sleepy Germany. He went to sit up but was pulled back down by surprisingly strong arms. Italy, he thought with a grunt. The smaller nation had his arms tightly wrapped around Germany's chest, clinging tighter as he moved. He didn't want to wake him up, having a hard week, he needed the rest. He shuffled to a sitting position and let Italy lay his head in his lap, arms hugging his waist.

Germany watched Italy as he slept. His chest rose and fell lightly with his dreams. A small smile tugged Germany's lips. Brushing some auburn hair out of his face, his blue eyes fell upon the scar on his face. Easily, Germany traced it, feeling how it healed. It wasn't doing its greatest to heal, not being disinfected properly, but from the looks of it, it would give Italy no problems.

"_You only did it to protect me from the others."_

How could Italy be so understanding after what he did and said? Germany didn't quite understand the Italian. He never would. He whispered a quick "Cazolics" before raising his eyes to analyze everyone else in the room. It was certainly such a peaceful night, it was. If only he could see the sky. Then it would be perfect.

He didn't expect the moment to be ruined, but when it was, he was prepared.

"EVERYONE VAKE UP!" The German's yell cut everyone's dreams short, opening their eyes just as the smoke began filling the room.

"What's the meaning of this?" England questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes quickly.

"Everyone to the center of ze room! Now!" Germany grabbed Italy by the wrist and pulled him to the center, meeting with everyone else. There was silence from then on. The only sound was the pressurized hiss from the smoke being released into the air. Then a soft gust from the curtains. Someone had joined them.

America's breathing was hesitant, backing up into whoever was behind him. A hand reached out from the smoke and gripped the collar of his shirt. With a shout, he was pulled into the smoke.

"Merde," France muttered. "Dieu nous aide*."

"Take covah!" an unknown voice yelled before a flash of light split their visions. All ears in the room, including the attackers were ringing. Hearing was temporarily shut down, but not before they all heard someone yell, "You idiot!"

Italy rubbed his eyes, hoping to rid his eyes of the light. Opening his eyes, a sadistic smile stood in front of him. The air chilled with the shiver that slithered down and back up his spine. "Ciao, you little fuck."

Soon enough, everyone was fighting with someone on their own, helping someone else, or knocked unconscious. There were yells and screams from all sides, anyone barely able to hear themselves think.

There was a frightened yell above all the others followed by, "Japan!" A metallic clang rag out. "I'm co—"

_THWACK_

"Just take him and go!"

Several seconds passed and the smoke cleared. Partial fogs still lingered but not as thick as before. Several unconscious nations were spread throughout the room, which included France, America, Canada, and Romano.

China was gripping his head; a large bump had appeared on it. "Ow, aru." He looked up at Italy who stood over him with a hand held out. Surprisingly, he took it and was helped to his feet. He surveyed the room, eyes frantic. Biting his lip, he looked at Germany. "They took Japan."

* * *

><p>When the Asian nation came to, he couldn't see what was going on around him. His current position was uncomfortable. Deciding to shift more comfortably, he heard whispers coming from nearby. Listening in, he heard the dark of their voices. How each of them hissed with their own evil and deepness.<p>

"Shut up, Bernardo, you idiot," a familiar voice hissed. The Japanese nation quickly recognized that voice as the Italian counterpart.

"Why should I, fucking bastard?" a deeper version of Cesare's voice hissed in the same equal tone.

Japan could feel the annoyance seep like poison in the atmosphere. From everyone, not just the two. Also, there was a slight hint of boredom, not caring to pay attention to the two as they fought.

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be here."

"And if it weren't for-a me, you wouldn't have been able to get them."

"I promise if you both don't shut those bottomless pits called mouths, I will!" The growl shut them up further. Japan only slightly heard the mutter of, "Where are my needles, ahru?" The voice was so much more throaty he wouldn't have recognized it if it weren't for that signature tic.

"Thisssss iss nothing to fight about," a quiet voice hissed. It almost seemed shy. "We have more important matterssssss to dissscusss."

"Svift Runner is right," a strong, dominant voice took over. "Seeing as none of you idiots can plan vizout me or bruder, you may vant to listen."

"Hold on, Adolf," Cesare halted. There was a pause, Japan tensed slightly but slowed his breathing, hoping he had not been noticed. "They need to be killed, before any of this can move on. Once we have them, then the others won't be a problem once these nations are out of the picture."

Japan's heart thumped.

"We need to focus on that first before we do anything else."

Another unrecognizable voice gave his, clearing his throat to gain attention, "I would like explanation to this new world, if none of you mind. Everything is quite new, I am not sure whether to be afraid or just dumbstruck."

"Both, ahru," China's counterpart groaned. "Humans have grown very low on the intelligent scale as time went on, Nathan."

Swift Runner's hiss echoed throughout the room, chilling the very marrow in their bones. Even Japan began to shiver while the hiss rattled through his ears and into his mind where it lingered like a foul odor. Each inhale and exhale was hollow as bamboo and dry as a carcass in the desert. "Thissss iss good on our part, don't forget. They will never ssssssussspect anything that'ssss coming to them."

A shudder curled around his voice as another spoke, his accent thick with French, "Please remind me what you are again. I have never heard of your kind in my country before."

Silence lingered eerily through the room for what seemed like forever. No one spoke, almost as if afraid to or just waiting for what would happen next. A low hiss started echoing before the storm. "I. Am. A. Wendigo!"

_SLAM_

_SKRREEEEEE_

Japan desperately wanted to shield his ears from the piercing sound. The dreaded sound that resembled nails against a chalkboard.

"Next time you have to asssk what I am, I will take that thing upon your ssshoulderssss and carve it open and devour that gathering of sssnailssss you call a brain! Thissss isss the sssixth forsssaken time you've had to asssk!"

Japan bit his lip. It was hard to stay sane with that wicked hiss vibrating your ears and brain. He fought the desperate urge to twitch a muscle.

"Get off ze table, vill you?" Adolf asked in his politest voice possible. Swift Runner hissed in response. "Now zat you are all paying attention, come. I have been vorking on some plans viz my bruder."

"I need to stay behind. There is unfinished business for me to take care of."

"Do what you must," Cesare spoke, not bothering to hide his arid tone. A door clicked closed before footsteps started towards where Japan lie.

Japan closed his eyes tight and focused on his breathing as the footsteps grew nearer. Had he noticed that Japan was awake and listening in on the entire conversation? He could only hope and pray.

The steps stopped right next to him followed by his breathing. "I know you are awake."

_Kuso!_

A light chuckle came from the other. A grip came to his restraints and they fell loose. The blindfold had been taken off. Japan shot on his feet and stood in a stance, ready to fight his opponent. This opponent, though, he had not expected.

Taking the hesitation in his favor, the other pinned Japan to the wall by the throat. "You do not usuarry hesitate. You did not expect me, did you?"

Japan choked trying to suck in air, gripping his persona's wrist with all he could. Try as he might, he could not take his eyes off the bright ones in front of him. They were so different from his, so frightful. The yellow eyes stared back at him. Black liner illuminated around his orbs. He wore a kimono only halfway on leaving the right side of his chest bare, showing off his Yakuza tattoos.

Not gaining a response, he let go, letting Japan fall to his knees, heaving and coughing, gasping to refresh his flaring lungs with soothing oxygen. He looked up into those haunting eyes that crouched to meet his inches away. "Don't worry. I'm not arrowed to torture you." He stood up and walked off. He put a hand on the handle to the steel door. "Yet that is. And don't think about escaping. There is no way in or out besides this door and it's rocked from the outside." The persona pulled a key out to unlock the door and vanished behind it.

Japan pulled himself to the wall, hugging his knees close. While his head rested on his folded arms, his mind wondered to his plains of thought. Wandering back to times before when worse situations had happened, he didn't feel so bad. _They wirr do what they can to save me. I cannot rose hope._

* * *

><p>Yes I am making HetaOni references X3. It helps a tiny bit with the plot and makes a good filler for words XD.<p>

*Dieu nous aide = God help us*


	8. The Escapist

I own none of the Hetalia characters. Do I have to put this in every chapter?

* * *

><p>A sigh exhaled from his thin, split lips. His gloved thumb smeared away the blood, looking at how much it was bleeding. "Bernardo, you fucking prick." Cesare glared at his brother, wising he could throw daggers at the bastard physically instead of mentally. "What the hell was that for?"<p>

Bernardo merely shrugged. "Felt like it, bitch."

"Asshole."

"Dick-face."

"Complete hopeless ass-clown."

"Sorry fuck ankle-grabber."

"Snooty scrotum-slammer."

By this time, everyone was used to the constant bickering of the two, though it still annoyed them more and more each time. They were more like twins than their country counterparts. It was rather odd and somehow horrifying but ten times as annoying.

"Bow down before me you hypocritical, whimpering Neanderthal!"

Cesare growled at his brother. "Go fuck your tube sock, you cock."

"Your verbosity is exceeded only by your total stupidity." Verbosity? Did he even know what the word meant? Oh, well. He was going to use it anyway.

"You—"

"Will ye both jus' give it a bloody rest? Belay yer bilge comments so we can return to the bloody plans!" Edward yelled, drawing his sword and pointing it at the two, waving it back and forth slowly between the two. "An' if ye two dare speak another insult, I'll make sure ye both be joining that bilge rat in the brig!"

"Edward, as much as I'd enjoy watching these two beaten to a shivering pile of flesh, they are still important, da?" Vadim attempted to calm the pirate's foul temper, even though he could hardly suppress his own. In his mind he kept replaying images of him ripping the two open with his bare hands, gorging out their eyes, and ripping their innards from their bodies. The sadistic part of his mind he called his "happy place" was the only thing keeping himself from tearing the two idiots limb from scrawny limb himself.

A man dressed in casual clothes, armor resting on the sidelines, stepped forward to the two brothers. "Here's the deal," he began, "both of you stop fighting or else."

"Or else what?" Cesare dared the conquistador.

He merely chuckled and jabbed his thumb in the direction the ghostly sounds were being generated from the corner of the room. "I'm sure Swift Runner has been getting hungrier and hungrier."

The Wendigo slowly swiveled his skull encased head, the long curl drifting through the air. Purple, misting eyes stared deep into the two brothers' souls, followed with a deep, sharp hiss. "Feasssst, feasssst, musssst feasssst. Forever feasssting on the flesssh of the living, never sssatissssfied, never filled. Hungry, hungry. I grow ever hungry for the flesssssh and blood; of the next tassssste of blood and ssscreamssssssssss…"

A chill thundered through the air. Everyone was silent, not wanting to say anything. Swift Runner hissed slowly and returned to what he was doing before. He had been trying to control himself but the hunger was growing stronger and getting harder to hold back. He would go hunting for human meat that night, but until then, he secluded himself in the corner, keeping his mind at ease. Although it was difficult with those two bickering all the insane time.

The two Italians were shaking in their skin. How could he be scarier than them? He was hardly even noticed when he was part of Canada. No, this side of him only was noticed when he wanted everyone to notice him. It seemed to be one of his qualities that made him more frightening.

"Deal?" Hernan finally managed to ask.

"S-si," both of them shakily said.

"Now that you are paying attention again, let us get back to the plan, ahru," spoke the emperor. Ying waited before gaining everyone's attention to speak again. "Our first plan of action is to lure the nations to our trap. How we do this? Simple, ahru." Ying's eyes surveyed before meeting with the Yakuza's. "You will go in disguise, ahru. You will lure them to us. There, we will proceed with the plan. Kill them, ahru. Take what rightfully is ours."

"I can do that easiry," Shinobu smiled. "Arthough, my eyes may be harder to disguise."

"Do vat you vill, zen," Adolf said.

"If I might make a few suggestions for the plans," Octave offered. The Frenchman wore a brilliant grin, thinking his plan would greatly aid then.

Shinobu slipped away, keys jingling in his fingers. The walk to the door was silent, but enjoyable. His mind raced with thoughts, riddled on what he could do to the nation while he was still alive. With a twist of the key and a gentle push of the knob, the door swung open swiftly. There, right where he had left him, Shinobu spotted the nation, curled up. Was he asleep? Eh, he soon wouldn't be.

Shinobu pressed a sandaled foot to Japan's shoulder. "It is time to wake up." He shoved Japan to the ground. "You have something I need."

Through his shocking awakening, he gazed up to stare into those piercing, merciless eyes. All Japan did was stand and face his other. "Then you wirr have to fight me. I do not back down easiry."

A dry chuckle wafted out his mouth, titling his head slightly diagonal up. The smirk that grew on his horrendous lips taunted the nation. He was amused at his feeble attempts to fight. Still, he expected no less. "Very werr." He then took a stance of his own, a more relaxed stance.

The air went still as they both stood there, testing each others' patience. They thought and planned in their head, reading the aura of the other. In a flash, Japan jumped forward and threw a swift punch. Shinobu hardly had enough time to sidestep the fist, feeling the whip of wind on his face. Just as easily as he stepped, he grabbed Japan's wrist and vaulted him across the room.

The nation landed hard on his back with a pained grunt. Wasting no time, he stood shortly ducking a roundhouse kick. Japan retaliated with a kick of his own. His opponent stumbled back giving Japan enough time to produce a high kick.

Shinobu wheeled around and blocked the attack swiveling his fist and taking hold of Japan once more. Once again, Japan was tossed like a rag doll.

The breath was knocked out of him when he hit the vertical cement. He fell and heaved, desperately looking for his breath. _If onry I had my katana. _Glancing quickly around the room, he looked for anything he could improvise. Then he spotted something. It wasn't much, but it was something that could at least give distance.

He jumped up and made a run for the lone table. Shinobu knew his intention and tailed behind him. Japan lunged at the table and gripped the thin metal rod. The nation moved out of the way just in time as Shinobu's fist slammed down onto the metallic table.

Japan snapped his wrist and the pointer quadrupled in length. Giving it a quick swish through the air…

_Thwack!_

Shinobu stood still. His hand went to his cheek. He pulled away to look at the blood that seeped out his cheek. His eyes narrowed in anger. "I'm done praying." Shinobu lunged forward and grasped the nation's throat tight. "I am done messing around with you." He threw Japan to the ground and stomped his foot on his chest and kneeled, legs on either side holding his arms in place. "Time to get what I came here for."

* * *

><p>Italy tapped his fingers against the windowsill, staring out at the land, the city, the sky, the beyond. How long had it been since all of this started to the present? A month? A month and a half? Italy lost count. It didn't matter how long this had been going on, not to him. Nothing made sense of it anyway. What were they going to plan on doing? Kill them? They were nations, they couldn't…<p>

His eyes closed, thinking back on things. No, they could die. He remembered the mansion, he wished he couldn't. He remembered his first love. Why couldn't he have just listened? Italy balled his hand into a fist, shutting his eyes tight. He just had to go off and try to conquer everything. Look where that got him.

Tears seeped out of Italy's eyes and fell on the painted wood. He wished for once that things would go right without having to lose someone he cared so much about.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. He didn't bother trying to hide the tears, they had probably heard him crying anyway. Italy looked at the hand before looking at the face. "P-Prussia?"

"Hey, kid. Vat's bodering you?"

Italy took a moment to answer, "Everything."

Prussia nodded, understanding. "Vy don't you come socialize? Everyone's been vorried."

"I'm fine, Gilbert. No one should be worried." Italy suddenly squeaked as Prussia wrapped his arms around Italy and threw him over his shoulder.

"Not awesome. You're coming veder you vant to or not." Prussia smiled even if Italy couldn't see it. "Besides, England has somezing for you." Prussia stepped into the living room and set Italy on his feet. "I found him."

The conversations ended as Prussia stepped in. England and Romano nodded to each other and England stood, supported by the crutches, and limped over to Italy. "We've all discussed it," began England, "and we feel it be necessary." He held out his hand and a tricolored orb appeared in his palm. Italy just blinked and stared at the glowing red, white, and green orb that gently floated, slightly drifting, on the nation's palm. Italy reached out and barely even touched the orb as it broke into three colored streams of light that encircled Italy's arm and absorbed into him.

Thoughts and voices flooded through Italy's mind. His soul felt stronger and more complete. He felt the everlasting rivers and mountains and the hustle and bustle of Venice flow through his veins. He never realized how empty he felt without his part of the country until it returned, became one with him again.

His eyes opened, a soft smile on his lips. "Thank you," he said gratefully and hugged England, and in return rested a crutch under his arm and gave Italy a one-armed hug and smiled back.

"You're quite welcome."

"Good-a riddance," Romano muttered. "That was really starting to get on my nerves. The happy was-a too annoying."

"Now we must focus on Japan, aru," China voiced, worried greatly about his kid brother. He still refused to show it most of the time.

"We don't even know where they could be," France said.

"Ze best zing vould just be to vait until zey find us," Germany agreed. "Ve vill have to capture one of zem."

"You can leave that to me," Russia spoke up. "I have interesting way to handle a situation just like this."

England nodded. "Then you will be in charge of that."

"Good." Russia stood up, looking around the room. "Prussia, if you will be of assistance."

Not fully sure whether to go with the man, Prussia simply agreed and followed Russia out of the room, a few paces behind him.

"Now that that's done, we must discuss how we will win against them," England began, eyeing each of the countries in the room.

Spain raised his hand slightly, hoping to get a word in before they moved on. "Being what they are, their weaknesses most likely won't be like ours. We have people that we love and care for that they will take advantage of."

"Spain's right." France sipped his wine before continuing. "I doubt they know love or friendship at all."

"And zat's our greatest veakness. If only zere vas a vay to evade zat." Germany sought aid from his many years of war and battle experience. "Ze only vay I see it…" He didn't want to admit it, but it might be the only way. "Ve have to break off every tie ve have vith someone. Friends, family, lovers."

There was silence drifting, rising and falling through the atmosphere. Everyone was contemplating it over into their heads. Could it really be the only way?

"I… I can't agree with that." Heads turned towards the once perky Italian.

"Vat?"

"The ties we have with each other are special. They make us who and what we are and influence us in strange ways. Without those ties, we would just be acquaintances, nothing strong to keep us together. That's what makes us as strong as we are. It's what makes us fight harder and stronger. Without the love from family and friends, then what do we really have?"

Everyone was in silent surprise. Germany didn't know how to react to Italy's disagreement. His mind had gone blank.

He spoke again, "It won't work. Come on, Germany. I know you can think of something. You're so smart and great with these battle plans. I know you can do it."

Germany stared into those eyes, that quirky smile of his. The exact smile that threw him off the edge every time. It was so full of sweetness and affection. He had to smile in return, almost like an automatic thing that clicked whenever he saw that smile. "All right, I vill zink of somezing else."

"Yay!" Italy cheered.

"Yo! What are we gonna do after we catch one of them?" America piped up after being so oddly quiet.

"We will figure that out later. Right now, let's leave Prussia and Russia to their business and get some rest. I'll take first watch." They all settled in the living room again. England flicked the light switch down and took a seat in the chair, leaning his crutches against the wall. He wished the wound would heal already. Sure, he could easily heal it with magic, but he needed to save his mana for when it was needed most. Deep in his gut, he knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. He let out an almost inaudible mix of a sigh and a grunt of annoyance and thought. His mind and heart knew the worst just might happen.

Deciding what was best, he reaching into his bag and pulled out a weathered, leather book with gold trim an inch from the edges. Opening it, he began to chant, "Invoco superiores vires me dare commoda mihi robur Ut…"


	9. Imaginary

"_Iiiiitaaaaallyyyyyyyyyyyyy…" _The voice called out his name, his breath starting to shake. The eerie voice echoed like a ghostly sigh in the night. Twisting his head in all directions, he spied nothing but the endless blackness that surrounded him. The strange voice called his name again, sounding closer than before.

"_Wheeereee aaarre yooouuu, myy liiittle Iiiiiitaaalllyyyyy?"_

The darkness swirled around him, changing and distorting into shapes and colors. Trees stood erect, plant litter lay all around, and the sky was grey and cloudy. Everything seemed to have a brown over-glow to it. In other words, you could say it was perfect "zombie weather."

A twig snapped. Italy turned to see no one through the thicket of the tall trees. His heart started to pound in his chest. Breathing became more ragged and shallow as the air seemed to grow thicker and thicker, slowly suffocating him. A rather unusual sound made it to his ears. Breathing, very ragged and tense, like his own. Turning around once more, he suddenly faced a mirror image of himself. Nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight, he froze until he realized the other him was exactly in the same stance he was, ready to run as he was. Standing straight again, as his opposite did, he reached out a hand, the other doing the same with, oddly, the same hand.

Taking a slow step, he stepped towards his mirrored self. It took the step with him. Another step and another and another. Italy then halted, only about two feet from his double. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand and gently touched the cheek, his opposite mimicked. He reeled his hand back, stumbling back. The touch felt so cold, rough like stone, nothing like human skin.

A piercing shriek screamed through the forest, echoing all around. The hair on Italy's neck stood up as he franticly searched his sights. Nothing was there. The woman's screams died down, though the effects still lingered on.

When Feliciano turned back to his double, he did not hesitate to scream and take off running. Where the double once stood was a strange humanoid creature with no eyes and a jagged smile with long, thin fangs that took up most of its near faceless head. It gave a single breath and a single shifting of the leaf litter before it disappeared into a dark vapor.

Italy finally stopped and leaned his arms on his legs, trying to catch his breath from what he just saw. He closed his eyes, panting in dry breaths.

_Knock…_

Italy looked around. There was nothing around to make the sound. Bone to wood it sounded like. Very hollow the knock was, also high in pitch.

_Knock_

There is was again. Where the hell was it coming from? Italy's heart pounded hard in his chest, throbbing painfully against his sternum. The stillness of the air was unsettling. Nothing moved and nothing made a noise. Paranoia was slowly setting in. He could feel eyes watching him. His body swiveled around, desperately looking for the creature that had its eyes on him.

A noise. A very unexpected noise. Coughing? No. Choking? Yes… Yes! Italy craned his neck around. Someone was choking! Who-or what for that matter-was choking? After looking around again, he stopped. No wonder he couldn't see it. The noise came from above. He looked up, only to see a mess of silent feathers glide quickly away, the choking sound fading with the weird bird.

The Italian was so confused. Birds didn't choke out of the norm, did they? If they did, he didn't think they sounded like a human choking on something. A shudder quaked through his body. Something hit his stomach, making him feel sick to the core.

_Clip clop clip clop clip clop_

The smell of death was near. Italy looked to the right to see a very odd sight. Four black horses pulling a black coach. The rider cracked the reins, ordering the horses to keep going. Catching a glimpse at the man with the reins. He wore an old, dark black beaver hat pulled over his eyes, head angled low. A black cloak draped over his shoulders, overlaying his suit.

_Crack!_

One of the spokes of the carriage wheels snapped as it rode over a rather large rock. The rider stopped the horses and stepped out, observing the damage. He audibly sighed and looked around, looking for any possible replacement for the spoke.

Something shuffled by Italy's feet. Jumping a few feet in the air, he looked down and spotted a rather thick stick. It was mostly straight except for a slight bend near the middle. Italy picked it up and looked back at the coach. The man was bent down trying out different replacements, throwing them aside when they where no good. Italy gulped, taking all his courage to step forward to the coach, halting just behind the man. He hesitantly cleared his throat.

The man turned his head toward Italy but did not look up at him. "Um… S-sir," Italy rasped, his throat dry from hyperventilating and panting. "I-If I m-may." Italy held out the stick, grasping it with both hands. The man nodded slightly and moved out of the way. Italy kneeled down and began to fix the spoke. "I-It'll b-b-be as good as I c-can get it. I-I once built a whole c-car out of n-n-nothing b-but sticks." The man said nothing in return. "Ger-Germany taught m-me a lot as w-well." The stick snapped into place. Italy made a few adjustments and stood up. "There." He looked at the man, still unable to see his eyes.

The man nodded. "Thank you. You are most kind."

An answer he would have least expected, Italy just smiled nervously. "Y-You're very welcome."

The rider gave Italy a small smile in return before returning to the driver's seat of the coach and heading off again, disappearing into the sudden fog. Even for a moment, Italy had forgotten about the scary things and calmed down.

_KNOCK!_

_"-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

* * *

><p>Italy shot up, breathing heavily. He jumped to his feet but quickly fell over. His whole left leg was numb.<p>

"Italy. Italy! Calm down, vill you?" Germany had caught Italy before he planted his face into the floor. "It vas just a bad dream."

Italy's vision sharpened, enabling him to look around. Everyone was sitting around him, confusion and worry on their faces. "Dude, Italy, are you all right? You must've had a pretty bad damn dream there." America sighed in relief at his awakening.

Canada the spoke, "All of us had tried to wake you up, but you wouldn't even move."

"We even tried slapping you and putting smelling salts under your nose. Even threatening you didn't work," England said, glancing at Russia at the last part.

The throbbing in Italy's head was getting worse as the reality around him came back to him. He felt himself cold and wet with sweat. Stains were on his cheeks. He must've been crying at some point, even though he wasn't in his dream.

"It was so weird… I've-I've never had a dream like this before…" Italy thought out loud, clinging to Germany's shirt.

"What was it about?" China asked curiously. "Dream can have different meaning depending on what you dream about, aru."

"Well, it started out in blackness with someone calling out my name in a very strange way, then—"

A shout came from outside that followed a snapping noise.

"What fun," Russia smiled. "A rabbit has just set off my trap." Russia stood up and went outside alone to obtain the enemy.

"Be ready everyone," England said. "We won't know who this guy is."

When Russia stepped back in, dragging the guy behind him. "Not rabbit, but close enough." He held up the nation, putting him on his feet. The nation was shaking quiet violently. His eyes had dried blood around them.

"Japan!" China threw his arms around the nation in relief. "I was so worried, aru!" He looked at Japan with a smile. "How did you get out, aru? Did you escape, aru?"

Japan nodded. "I do not remember much, but I was able to. I am grad you arr are ok."

"Those bastards tortured you, didn't dey?" Prussia asked, touching the healing wound on Japan's face.

China hugged him again, and Japan buried his face into China's shoulder. "Yeah, they tortured me. I wirr rive, though. Nothing to worry about." His face twisted into a sinister smile. "Nothing at all."

* * *

><p>All right, this has been a short chapter, but I thought this would be interesting. I know I probably fail but whatever XD it's a plot thing. Also, there are five mythical creatures in Italy's dream. If anyone can guess all five right, I'll write them a one-shot of any pairing in Hetalia you would like. Have fun and peace out!<p> 


	10. Mission

Sorry for not updating in a while. Been busy and kinda stuck on how i was going to write this chapter. I know the last chapter doesn't feel like it had a purpose, i've really been trying to keep this on track and hoping this story still makes sense, especially after this chapter. R&R, let me know what you all think.

* * *

><p>As soon as Japan had gotten his eyes looked at, seeing that they were fine, everyone sat down. They all listened as Italy explained his nightmare. Shinobu sipped his tea, trying his best to look worried and interested for the kid. He inwardly smiled. The kid wouldn't have to worry about nightmares soon.<p>

As Italy ended his nightmare, England spoke first. "I can tell you that screaming's a banshee. Bloody things they are." He shuddered. "I heard one of their shrieks once in Scotland's house. Chilled me to the bloody bone, it did."

France made his signature laugh. "In any case, the only handsome being in that story could only come from my folklore. The coach driver, it was an ankou. Usually an ill omen of death, but seeing as you had been so kind to help it out, it may repay you the favor."

"Ze doppelganger and ze witchlein, ze zing zat vas knocking, aren't good omens, eizer. But I'm not superstitious, so I really don't care."

"What about the weird choking bird?" Italy asked.

Everyone exchanged looks and shrugged. "I don't think any of us have heard of anything like that," Spain said. "It sounds similar to the owlman, but I can't say that's what it was."

Italy itched his fingers nervously. If they were all bad omens, then that had to mean something bad would happen, right?

"Hey, don't you all go scaring my-a brother like that, bastards," Romano huffed. "It was just a dream and that's-a it. We have better things to worry about than a stupid dream, idiots."

"But what if it is true, fratello?"

"Then we well protect you. I'm not letting that-a happen to my baby brother again.

Shinobu sighed inwardly, thinking to himself how big of fools they all were. Still he tried to show the kid some form or worry or pity or sympathy, whatever the hell it was. He really didn't care. He didn't even pay attention until the kid said his counterpart's name. He paused to look at the kid. "Yes, Itary?"

"I'm worried about you. You've been so quiet lately. Not yourself."

Shit, was the kid onto him? He swore to himself, hesitating to answer.

"Just give him time, aru," was all China said, looking at his kid brother and then back to the discussion.

Italy nodded and walked up to Japan, giving him a quick hug.

Shinobu's eyes went wide with shock. Now what was he supposed to do? If he pushed the kid away, they might get suspicious. If he did nothing, it might have the same effect. Despising himself for doing such a disgusting act, he hugged the Italian back.

Seeming satisfied, the younger nation pulled away and smiled, Shinobu faked a small smile back.

Germany cleared his throat to get the others' attention. "Now, Japan. Ve need to discuss how exactly you escaped and vere zey took you. Ve need their hideout location."

Japan nodded kindly. "It is actuarry not far from here. It is an ord buirding reft abandoned."

America groaned. "Always with the abandoned, spooky stuff. Why not a McDonalds underground base or something like that? That way we could get something to eat before fighting the bad guys."

"It's always hamburgers with you," Canada said, cuddling Kumajirou close to him.

"Git," England muttered under his breath.

"We should give it a few days to plan and for Japan to rest before we even try to attack," France said. He was unsure about the whole thing. Going in without any armies and just themselves. He was worried about what the other counterparts looked like, they all worried. They had no idea how bad they could've turned out or how powerful they have become. They all had bad personalities in their pasts. They could be anyone… anything.

This time, Prussia spoke, "Like ve've agreed before, ve've dealt vith vorse shit zan zis. Ve vill get zrough dis. Piece of cake. And ve've gotten zrough our past before. Dis is just anoder era in our lives dat ve need to defeat."

Prussia was generally correct. They were just facing their past selves and what happened before. It wasn't anything they didn't know or never experienced before. This bit of information gave them some hope among the darkness.

"And at least we are all together, right?" Italy added with a small hoping smile. His eyes shifted to everyone as they nodded and smiled as well.

"As rong as we are arr together," Japan repeated, although it seemed like he was repeating it to himself. Japan noticed that Italy was staring at him, with a small, reassuring smile. Unsure of Italy, all he did was smile back and then look away, going into his mind again, observing the others around him.

* * *

><p>"England, may I speak with you?" Italy wondered. The nation was tending to his injured leg, slowly healing it over again. He had been using enough energy to speed up the healing. Tonight it would be fully healed and prepared for the next day.<p>

England looked up at the Italian with his glowing green eyes. "What do you need, Italy?"

"Can we talk in the kitchen, please?" Curious, England nodded and limped into the kitchen with Italy. When asked again, Italy replied in a whisper, "Japan's been acting very strange lately. Have you noticed?"

"You can't really blame the git for getting captured."

"But even with that, we've had worse trauma and he would still try to be at his best. He's different than he normally is, England. He stayed out of all the conversations, he didn't smile as much as he normally does, and when I hugged him he didn't push me away like normal."

England went silent, leaning against the table in thought. "Come to think of it…" He trailed off, sighing. "All right, Italy. I'll think about it and give you an answer in the morning, all right?"

Italy nodded. He put his trust in England. He was smart and a great wizard. He would figure something out for sure.

* * *

><p>The next day, everything was planned out. Japan was to take the lead to bring them to the others' hideout. Most of the day had passed so far, allowing for England's leg to fully heal. Everyone had prepared, obtaining their weapons and as much ammo as they could hold. They also carried some special, ammo free weapons in case they needed it, and they most likely would.<p>

"All right, Japan," Germany said, heading out the door with the rest of them, "lead ze vay."

Shinobu nodded, chuckling inside his head. He couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces once they saw what he had planned for them. He had begun leading them to a nearby park. The day was partly cloudy but the day was normal in weather, so to speak if normal could be a description for weather.

The trees grew thicker as Japan led them down a trail deeper into the woods. Everyone was starting to feel something different: paranoia, fear, nervousness, suspicion. You take your pick. They all felt like eyes were watching their every move.

_Kraa kraa kraa_

A small murder of three or four hooded crows had gathered in the stretching branches above. Italy looked up at the birds. His teeth chattered nervously in his shaking mouth. A tough, reassuring hand on his shoulder from Germany calmed him. Italy sent a smile up at Germany who quickly smiled back before looking ahead again, face turning serious again.

Japan stopped in a small clearing. "We are here," he said with a smirk on his shadowed face.

"What the hell do you-a mean we are here? This doesn't look-a like some hideout to me, bastard," Romano sneered, glaring at the nation.

Shinobu chuckled in his throat, turning to face them. His eyes had grown harder than his disguised ones. His voice returned to the deeper accented tone it was. "You actuarry think Japan could've escaped that easiry? You amuse me further."

"It's a trap?"

"I didn't zink you vere all dumb enough to fall for zis," Reinhard said, stepping out from behind a tree. "But I alvays overestimate my opponents anyvay."

"You give zem too much credit," Adolf muttered, grasping a shivering man in his clutching, only a blanket was around him, his eyes were bandaged, and his wrists were bound together.

"Japan!" Italy yelled out, recognizing the true nation.

"You let my brother go, aru!" China demanded, taking out his wok.

"Give him to them, Adolf. We have no use for him anyway," the youngest mafia twin said, leaning against a tree, not bothering to be stern or harsh.

Adolf thrust Japan at them, China catching him in his arms. "Ch-China?" Japan stuttered with fright lingering off his tone.

"Japan, aru. What did they do to you?"

"They… He took my eyes… They tortured me…" What visible skin showed on Japan was covered in scratches, scars, burns, scrapes, and more.

"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU FOR THIS, ARU!" England and Germany had to hold him back from attacking Shinobu. He, in reaction to the scene, laughed and backed up.

"You can have them back if you can get them from me." Shinobu just smiled and walked backwards to the emperor behind him.

A tormenting hiss struck through the nations like lightning, freezing their nerves on the spot. "I can finally feasssssst tonight. How I have waited ssssso long to tassssste your flessssssssh." He hissed right at Canada who cowered behind America.

"You're not feasting on anyone! Not while the hero's around!"

"Oh shut it, you colored lovin' idiot," a man dressed in white robes snapped at America, brandishing a handgun towards him. "I'll finish you on the spot and see who's the hero then."

"Easy, Nathan," Bernardo said. "We don't want to be killing them without showing them what we can do." He smiled at Germany, tapping a baseball bat in his hands, the last foot of it impaled with railroad spikes.

"Enough talk, tie zem up," Adolf ordered.

The dark counterparts enveloped the nations in a fight. Fists, feet, metal, and gunpowder flew all around. Canada was back-to-back with America, fighting off their counterparts. Swift Runner seemed impossible to injure. Every bullet shot into him would just be absorbed and he acted as if none of them even hurt. He wasn't even trying to dodge!

Nathan and America clashed fists and kicks, both their guns lying a few feet away. Both of them exchanged some cocky banter before and while attacking. America continued to propose that he was the hero and he would win this fight as the hero always does. Nathan taunted back saying how Alfred was just playing around in his fantasies.

The two Italians fought side-by-side with each other as did their counterparts in a fit of insults-mainly on Romano's end-heat, and fury. Their main choices of weapons were melee instead of gunfire. Baseball bats, rocks, Italy even threw his shoe. Although Cesare prepared, lit, and tossed a Molotov at their foes, causing a fire to start in the area they were at.

Everyone had stopped as the roaring flames and searing heat scourged the area. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Bernardo yelled, giving his brother a sharp whack in the head with the bat at his stupidity.

"This is no time for your preposterous babbling!" Edward yelled, dodging out of the way as the quick path of the fire cut down a branch from the tree near him. It was large enough to where it would've caused him a good concussion if he hadn't moved.

Adolf stood on the other side of the orange spires, grimacing at a tall figure on the other side. Something was held in his hands, though he make heads or tails of what it was. "Stop fucking around, Adolf! Ve have to move! NOW!" Adolf glanced away for a quick second but looked back. The figure had disappeared, leaving him confused and wondering. Not long after, he joined the others, fleeing from the wildfire that had been started.

* * *

><p>Another sharp whack had been given to Cesare for the stupid mistake. "What the hell came over you?" Hernan yelled at the mafian.<p>

Cesare rubbed his sore and bruised head, trying to make sensed of his actions. "I told you already, bastard. I didn't even have a Molotov. I can't make one appear from thin air!"

"That is hard to believe," Octave muttered under his breath to the Russian, who nodded in agreement adding the remark of "Damn Italians" for his own thoughts.

Shinobu's frustrated grunt drew their attentions to him. The man was searching through all the pockets and folds he had in that robe. "Where the fuck… I know I had my eyes here somewhere…"

* * *

><p>That night, Italy would wake up to find a leather pouch next to him with this note attached.<p>

_I appreciate your help, friend. It was not needed and where most would run, you had the courage to help. I thank you and bid you farewell as I travel on. Dreams are funny things sometimes, aren't they? Dream well, friend._


	11. Side note Information

Hey all! ^^ I got a suggestion from Prussiaa to put some info on the country's counterparts. Here are their full names, what they are, and some info on them. Want some more info, go to wiki or go to your local library. You ain't learning all that crap from me! DX This is all y'all get.

XD Love you guys! Keep reading and reviewing!

_North Italy, Veneziano_

_Mafioso_

_Cesare Manzella_

- Born: December 18, 1897  
>Cinisi, Sicily, Italy<p>

- Died: April 26, 1963 (aged 65)  
>Cinisi, Sicily, Italy<p>

_South Italy, Romano_

_Mafioso_

_Bernardo Provenzano_

- Born: January 31, 1933 (age 79)  
>Corleone, Sicily<p>

- Penalty: Life imprisonment

- Status: imprisoned since 2006

_America_

_KKK_

_Nathan Bedford Forrest_

- Born: July 13, 1821  
>Chapel Hill, Tennessee<p>

- Died: October 29, 1877 (aged 56)  
>Memphis, Tennessee<p>

- Nickname: Old Bed– Wizard of the Saddle, Devil Forrest

- Place of burial: Forrest Park, Memphis, Tennessee

- Allegiance: United States of America  
>Confederate States of America<br>Ku Klux Klan

- Service/branch: Confederate States Army

- Years of service: 1861 – 1865

- Rank Lieutenant: General

- Commands held: Forrest's Cavalry Corps

- Battles/wars

American Civil War

Fort Donelson

Shiloh

First Murfreesboro

Chickamauga

Fort Pillow

Brice's Crossroads

Tupelo

Second Memphis

Third Murfreesboro

Nashville

Wilson's Raid

_Germany_

_Nazi_

_Adolf Hitler_

- Born: 20 April 1889  
>Braunau am Inn, Austria–Hungary<p>

- Died: 30 April 1945 (aged 56)  
>Berlin, Germany<p>

Nationality:

Austrian citizen until 7 April 1925

German citizen after 25 February 1932

- Political party: National Socialist German Workers' Party (1921–1945)

- Other political affiliations: German Workers' Party (1920–1921)

- Spouse(s) Eva Braun  
>(29–30 April 1945)<p>

- Occupation: Politician, soldier, artist, writer

Miltary Service

- Allegiance: German Empire

- Service/branch: _Reichsheer_

- Years of service: 1914–1918

- Rank: _Gefreiter_

- Unit: 16th Bavarian

- Reserve: Regiment

- Battles/wars: World War I

- Awards:

Iron Cross First Class

Iron Cross Second Class

Wound Badge

_Prussia_

_Nazi_

_Reinhard Heydrich_

- Born 7 March 1904  
>Halle an der Saale, Germany<p>

- Died: 4 June 1942 (aged 38)  
>Prague–Libeň, Protectorate Bohemia and Moravia (now Czech Republic)<p>

- Nationality: German

- Political party: National Socialist German Workers Party (NSDAP)

- Spouse(s): Lina von Osten (married 26 December 1931)

- Children:

Klaus Heydrich (17 June 1933 – 24 October 1943)

Heider Heydrich (born 23 December 1934)

Silke Heydrich ( born 9 April 1939)

Marte Heydrich (born 23 July 1942)

- Nickname(s): The Hangman, The Butcher of Prague, The Blond Beast, Young Evil God of Death

_Japan_

_Yakuza_

_Kenichi Shinoda_

- AKA: Shinobu Tsukasa

- Born: January 25, 1942 in Ōita, Kyushu

- Founder of the yakuza gang

_China_

_Emperor_

_Qin Shi Huang_

- Personal name: Ying Zheng

- 259 BC – 210 BC, aged 49

- First emperor of China

_France_

_Bonnot_

_Octave Garnier_

- Born: December 25, 1889

- Died: May 14, 1912

- French anarchist and founding member of the infamous Bonnot Gang

_England_

_Pirate_

_Edward Teach_

- Better known as Blackbeard

- Born: c. 1680

(presumed) Bristol, England

- Death: 22 November 1718

Ocracoke, Province of North Carolina

- Years active: 1716-1718

- Rank: Captain

- Base of operations: Atlantic

- Commands: _Queen Anne's Revenge_, _Adventure_

_Spain_

_Conquistador_

_Hernán Cortés_

- Born: Hernán Cortés de Monroy y Pizarro  
>1485<br>Medellín, Castile

- Died: December 2, 1547 (aged 61–62)  
>Castilleja de la Cuesta, Castile<p>

- Nationality: Castilian

- Other names: Hernando Cortes

- Occupation: Conquistador

- Known for Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire

_Russia_

_KGB_

_Vadim Viktorovich Bakatin_

- (Russian: Вадим Викторович Бакатин)

- Born: 6 November 1937  
>Kiselyovsk, Kemerovo Oblast, Soviet Union<p>

- Nationality: Soviet/Russian

- Political party: Communist Party of the Soviet Union

_Canada_

_Wendigo_

_Swift Runner_

- Death: December, 1879

- hanged in Fort Saskatchewan

- murdered and cannibalized his wife and children during a winter storm


	12. You Raise Me Up

Yes, an actual update today! I notice I always update at night . Oh well, I get the most time to update at this time of day... night... whatever you wanna call it.

Ok, just some short drabbles that needed to be taken care of while i think of other ideas. Well anyway, R&R and enjoy, peoples! ^_^

* * *

><p>China slowly removed the bandages from Japan's eyes. Dried blood stained the cloth and his face when it had leaked from the empty sockets. England held the leather pouch in his hand. "This will hurt," he noted for the nation to be aware. "And your eyesight probably won't be the same for a while, but it should return to normal give or take." Taking a wet cloth they cleaned all the blood from around his eyes before proceeding with the replacement.<p>

Italy wouldn't stand watching the medical procedure. He could only stand that stuff to a certain amount. Blood was fine, but he hated war because of its massive amount. He hated blood when it came to war. He had already seen too much of it too many times before. He turned away from the living room and stepped into the kitchen. Watching his friends die over and over and over again was enough. If they hadn't of gotten out when they did, he would've surely driven himself mad with the constant going back and forth. He pulled out a key from his pocket. Something he always held on to, giving him hope no matter what situation he seemed to be in.

* * *

><p>"I need to do it, England. If anything happens, I need it as a last resort."<p>

The country stared at the other for a moment. He had never seen Italy more serious in all the centuries they knew each other. The hazel eyes shone with desperation for agreement. "I thought you were leaning against that decision."

"It will only be a last resort option. I promise. I—"

"Italy, as much as I believe you, I can't let you go through with something—"

"England, if you would just let me explain!"

The nation was awestruck by the Italian's sudden outburst. His stunned silence didn't go unnoticed by the other. His expression quickly grew back to softer one.

"I-I'm sorry…"

Although he was still in shock, England shook his head kindly in response. He really couldn't blame Italy at all. "Don't be. I forget sometimes."

Italy had a blank, almost zoned out expression on his face. "At least you're able to."

An almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips, grazing the air around them. "All right, all right. I'll do it."

* * *

><p>America was standing next to Canada on the front porch looking out at the field before them. Ever since the fight Canada had been quiet, more quiet than usual. He didn't seem irritated or happy, but disclosed and bothered by something. America wondered if he noticed he was standing right next to him. A simple hand on the shoulder answered that, having Canada jump and gasp in fright.<p>

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" Alfred asked.

Canada's eyes got shifty, responding in his normal shy voice, "N-nothing. Don't w-w-worry about me."

Normally, America wouldn't even notice the stuttering or the shifty eyes or the heart-wrenching fear in Canada's voice, but when things got serious, so did he. He saw right through the Canadian's act. "Tell me, Matt. What is it? I know you're hiding something."

"Maple…" he whispered before sighing. His mind brought up the image of his other self. That putrid smell that radiated off its decaying flesh. Those soul-piercing eyes made him freeze when they locked with his, draining all the warmth and happiness in his entire being. That fear-instilling hiss that echoed, lingered in his ears even now. What a monster it was, what a monster he had become. While all the others were still human, he was a monster. A damned creature of cannibalism and evil. A shudder ran through his body. "I'm…. a monster…"

America blinked. Had he just heard right? What the hell was going through his head? "What the hell, man? Why would you say that?"

"B-Because… it's what I…. it was…"

Realization swam through America. He remembered seeing the creature as well. How could Canada really think that was him? "Just because that thing is your copy doesn't mean you're what it is. Mine was part of the fucking Klan! But am I the type of guy to be racist?"

"Well… no, but—"

America gave his brother a sharp pat on the back with a big grin. "Then don't worry about it, dude. You're nothing like that thing."

"Y-you really think so?" A small smile brightened up on his face.

"Well duh! You're not even anything close to that!"

Canada reluctantly hugged Alfred in thanks. No matter how annoying he could be, America could always give a good pep talk.

* * *

><p>He noted the way his brother was staring at him and sighed with annoyance. He knew what was coming if he dared spoke. And yet he still did anyway. Gottverdammt, Germany, you idiot. "I know vat zat look is for, bruder."<p>

"Den I shouldn't have to tell you, but I vill because—"

"Just save it." He crossed his arms and turned his head away from Prussia.

His bruder's face tightened with a disapproving scowl. His scarlet eyes gleamed, filled to the brim with determination. Here he was trying to do something nice for his little bruder and he wouldn't even accept it. An idea suddenly came to his mind. "Fine zen. If you don't, zen I vill."

Germany's eyes popped open and swiveled his head. "You can't be serious."

All he did was shrug and smirk. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. How can you be so sure? The kid's cute, ain't he? And if my little bruder doesn't vant him den I'll just take my chance."

Germany hadn't a clue what to say. His brother could be lying just to get him to take the chance, but then again, he could be telling the truth. And if he was, then he'd lose his chance.

The Prussian turned serious. "You have until midnight. And I'm not joking vith you, bruder. None of us know vat vill happen after tonight. Might as vell take de chance ven you have it, right?" When Germany didn't respond, he stood up. "Midnight." He left the room leaving a worried German behind.

* * *

><p>Spain suddenly pulled the Italian close to his chest, tears teasing his eyes.<p>

A blush tinted his face in the low light of the dusky sky. Romano had taken a walk in his backyard garden when Spain joined him without a word. Aside from being out of the norm, he didn't have that annoying twinkle in his eyes or that goofy ass smile glued on his face. No, all there was was deep thinking in his eyes which almost made him look like he was questioning himself and his actions.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing, bastard?" Romano questioned. He tried to push Spain away but he just hugged tighter.

"Romano… please…" The tears flowed over the edge when he closed his eyes. "Please, Roma…"

Romano stopped struggling. This wasn't like him. What was wrong with him?

"What's wrong with you, idiot?"

Spain pulled away from Romano, smiling at him with tears running down his face. "I love to hear your voice, Romano. No matter how mean you are. And your beautiful face." In one swift move, Spain's lips lovingly pressed against Romano's.

A hard blush crossed his face and he shoved Antonio away in shock. "What the hell was that?"

Without answering, Spain took Romano's hand and kissed it like the gentleman he secretly was. With that, he replied with confidence. "I love you, Romano. I have for the longest time. Since you were just a kid." He watched as Romano's face turned red as a tomato. He was oh so cute when he blushed like that. It was such a rare sight. "I was always just waiting for the right time to tell you, to show you." He pulled Romano into another hug and a kiss. "Who knows how long we'll live now. This time we may not be able to come back. I love you with everything I am, all my heart and soul."

Romano, unsure of what to think, just spoke what his heart felt. "I… I love you, too… Jackass."

* * *

><p>"England, may I have a word with you for a moment?"<p>

England glanced up at the nation and frowned. "What do you want, frog?"

"I just want a moment of your time, is that so much to ask for?"

Giving a reluctant sigh, he closed his spell book and put it aside with the charm he had been working on. "If you must."

France smiled lightly and moved a seat next to his fellow country and sat, halfway crossing a leg over the other. "We have had some good years, have we not?"

"Just get to your point, git. I'm busy if you couldn't already tell."

"A little break will not hurt anyone."

England just 'hmphed' and stared in front of him, refusing to look at Frenchy sitting next to him. The two sat in a few moments of silence, gathering their thoughts on events and times, now and in the past, before either spoke.

"You have been a good friend all of these years. We have had a lot of good times."

England furrowed his brows and glanced suspiciously at France. "I wouldn't consider myself your friend, Frenchy."

"I would. Even after everything we still talked to each other and spent time together, did we not."

"Well, I…"

Francis just smiled and chuckled lightly. "We are all countries after all, non? Even though we have been through war, we are all in this world together. We cannot avoid confrontation when it calls. It is only our nature to conquer and control. Well"—he glanced at Italy, Romano, and Canada—"for the most part, anyway. We do not know if we will live through this battle."

England continued France's point out loud. "And this time, we wouldn't have the chance to redo it and come back."

"So what do you say? Friends?" France held out his hand to England, hoping he'd accept it.

A silence settled between the two slowly before England pushed his hand away. "Never." He stood up and picked up his charm and book once again. "Now if you don't mind, frog, I have things I need to get done."

* * *

><p>Russia stood out on the roof, staring up at the stars. The cool air blew around him, ruffling his scarf and coat lightly. He didn't need it. He was quite warm with them on, yet he kept them on. It always made him feel better, feel more secure. He frowned slightly. There were so many stars in the sky at his house, yet here, it seemed like half were missing. It made him feel- his head swiveled around, wondering if anyone was watching- lonely. Couldn't be too careful with those copies running around.<p>

"Kolkolkolkolkolkolkol," he muttered out of pure boredom to kill.

He sat down on the shingles hugging his knees to his chest. A small sigh escaped his lips as he gazed at the moon. Hoping for something, anything to happen. His eyes slowly started to cloud over, although he tried to blink it away. Without warning, something streaked across the sky. Barely catching it in his field of vision, he stared at the spot, hoping for maybe another to confirm what he had just seen. Again, another one streaked, brighter than the first. It was such a beautiful sight. To only catch a glimpse of for just a mere second. It was amazing.

And yet…

"I wish-…"

He looked around again.

"I wish I wasn't alone…"

* * *

><p>11:54<p>

Prussia returned his cell phone to his pocket. He had told Italy to meet him on the front porch close to midnight. Hopefully the kid wasn't sleeping. He chuckled at the thought, stroking a finger across his little bird's head who tweeted happily in response and made himself comfortable on his owner's head. Italy was such a kid at heart. He was so nice and kind, no matter what happened to him. He was cute that way.

"Gilbert?" The eldest German brother looked up at Italy, rubbing sleepy eyes. "I'm sorry I'm late. I just woke up from my nap."

Patting the space next to him on the bench, he gave a big smile. "Don't be! You're just in time."

"In time?" Feliciano asked, taking the seat next to Prussia. "For what?"

"You'll see. Look." He pointed up towards the sky. Italy had looked up just in time to notice the shooting star skimming across the sky.

"Oh, yeah! Quick, Prussia, make a wish!" Italy closed his eyes and made his own wish.

Prussia took the chance to check his phone.

11: 58

He mentally sighed and stowed it back in his pocket. Looking at Italy, he ran a finger across the scar on the kid's cheek. Italy's eyes snapped open and a flash of red crossed his cheeks. "Pr-Prussia?" was all he could manage.

Gilbert chuckled. "Italy, you are so cute ven you blush." This only made the blush deepen in color. His smile got sweeter for Italy, yet in his mind, he was apologizing to his younger bruder.

Closing his eyes, he leaned in towards Italy, aiming for his lips. He grew suddenly confused when all he was touching was air. When his eyes opened, the nation wasn't even there anymore. Only a shadow loomed over the spot. Looking up, he met the blazing blue eyes of his little bruder. His arms were wrapped around Italy, hugging him to his chest. A look of shock and awe painted Italy's face along with scarlet.

"I didn't zink you'd actually show up," Prussia said, smiling.

"Ve?" Italy asked.

Germany looked from his brother to Italy. "Ignore him. Come, ve're going to sleep." Germany took Italy inside and pulled him close when they had laid down.

"Why, Germany?" Italy asked, his eyes getting watery. His heart pounded in his chest, ready to explode with happiness. All it took was a simple answer to throw him over the edge.

"Because I…" He hesitated, unsure of how to go through with this. Unsure of what to even say. He stopped his mental argument and settled his thoughts with whispering to Italy, "Ich liebe dich." A blush spread across his own face.

Italy's eyes went wide and he clung to Germanys tank top, biting his lip to force the tears away. "G-Germany…"

"Shut up and go to sleep. V-ve'll talk more tomorrow."

For the first time in such a long, long time, the hole in his heart seemed whole again.


	13. Bringer of Pain

Sorry for the long wait for this update. Been having horrible blocks when writing. It's odd, though. I have tons of plans and ideas for this story, but when i sit down and get to writing, my mind blanks and I procrastinate. Some weird sorcery going on. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy the chapter!

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><p>Britain had volunteered to stay up on watch for that night. All night. He needed to finish the charm, anyway. His spell book was in his lap and his eyes would skim the instructions and words before he would return to his work and repeat the process again a few moments later.<p>

A shuffle in the room drew his attention away from his work. Looking over, he noticed Italy carefully move out of Germany's arms and stand up. The kid looked around the room at all the others, watching their chest rise and fall in sleep, who snored and who was silent. His eyes wandered before meeting England's vibrant green ones. Italy tilted his head a little getting a nod from England. when Italy tiptoed out of the room, England went back to work, worrying about the kid. He didn't know exactly what he was planning, but he had an idea. Even if he had said no to making the charm, he knew Italy would still be going through whatever he planned. So in the end, it was better to have this than not. It might just save his life. Still, he worried.

A sudden noise startled England as he furiously looked around for the source of the music. It was followed by a groan and Prussia sat up, putting his phone to his ear. "Vat ze hell are you calling for in ze middle of ze night!" Whatever sleep that was in his eyes went away suddenly replaced by fear. "Vat!" Prussia jumped to his feet and stumbled over to England handing the phone to him.

"Hello?" England asked cautiously.

"Ve can't hold zem off much longer! Zey trailed us to his place!" A woman's scream rang in the background along with gunshots. Austria's voice moved away from the phone, "Hungary, take Liechtenstein and go! Run!"

More gunshots vibrated the air. "I will shoot you fucks until you bleed!" Switzerland's voice was urgent and frightened. An all too familiar hiss came from the other side. "What the hell are you!"

"Vat are zese guys?"

"Hang on! We'll be right over!"

"HURRY!"

By this time, everyone was awake and staring at England. He handed Prussia his phone back. "They've gone after Austria and Switzerland."

Prussia then flew out of the room shouting, "I'll start ze truck!" before the door slammed behind him.

Italy jumped into the room. "What's going on?"

Everyone rushed out of the house. "No time to explain!" Germany grabbed him by the sleeve and sprinted out of the house. He lifted Italy into the back of the truck before climbing in himself. Seconds after, the truck sped off.

The truck was no racecar, but that didn't matter to Prussia. He pushed the thing to its max limit driving down the near-empty highway. The nerve-wrecking drive would take a few hours, give or take, but Prussia was determined to cut that time in half if not more. Austria and Hungary were great friends of his. There was no way he could let anything happen to them on his watch.

After only a mere 4 hours, the truck skidded to a stop at a house. Police cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance surrounded the estate. The whole area was aglow with the light from the towering spires before them. Sirens and crackling was all that could be heard. What everyone witnessed was not what any of them expected.

"NEIN!" Prussia jumped out of the driver's seat and ran towards the house. Before he could get near police lines, a force held him back. "Let me go!" he shouted, demanded.

"Bruder, come to your senses! If you go in zere, you'll be killed by ze fire!"

America ran up to one of the police. "Hey, man, do you speak English?"

"Englisch? Nein."

"Damn it."

France then waltzed up to the man. "Eh bien que diriez-vous français?"

"Oui, monsieur."

While France talked with the officer, Germany was able to get his brother to calm down enough to be able to talk to another officer. "We are not sure what happened," the man spoke in German while Prussia and Germany listened intently. "My partner and I were the first to arrive on scene about an hour and a half ago. We found the woman and the girl in the front lawn. Not long after, the house just burst into flames. I had to run in and see if there was anyone still in there while my partner went to assist the two ladies. I saw a group of people that fled the scene rather quickly, jumping out the window and running into the forest. There was one tall…thing." The man paused, unsure of whether he should mention it or not. "I'm not sure whether or not it was the smoke or the heat getting to me, but what I saw, those eyes, that infernal whispering that still plagues my ears even now. It just stared, unaffected by the fire at all. Like it wasn't even burning the demon. I don't think it would've left if it wasn't called back by whoever fled earlier." The officer took a moment to recover from the memory, visibly shuddering off the unease.

"When it left," he continued, "I saw two men behind where it was standing. They were on the floor, collapsed. I went to their aid as soon as I realized. I'm unsure how much smoke they sucked in, but they had minimal burns on them. I called for my partner and he rushed to aid me. All four of them have been rushed to the hospital."

"Danke," Prussia softly said with a grateful smile. The officer nodded back to him, returning the smile. They were alive and everyone was grateful for that simple fact.

* * *

><p>Felix Platter-Spital was the hospital the four were taken to. Prussia had burst in the doors as soon as the truck came to a stop with the others hurrying behind him. Nearly demanding their room numbers, he ran out of sight leaving a trail of dust in his wake.<p>

All too suddenly, Prussia stopped as soon as he went to reach for the door handle.

_Buh-bum…buh-bum..buh-bum buh-bum buh-bum buh-bum_

His heart raced nervously. The officer may have said they were all right, but how has their condition changed since then? Have they gotten better? …. Worse? Cold froze his spine, locking it in place. He could hardly bear the thought of one of his friends dying.

Mixed feelings rose up inside of him. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the handle and pushed the door open. A single breath escaped his lips at what was shown before him; a very strong sigh of relief.

Austria and Lichtenstein were asleep in the hospital beds. It was hard to make out what their injuries were under the sheets no matter how bone-cold and thin they were, though he noticed some bandages on Austria's face. Another lining of thicker sheets, that looked like cotton, seemed to be tucked underneath the linen ones. Should've had those when he was in the hospital in Berlin nine months ago for the broken arm.

Movement near Lichtenstein's bed drew his attention. Suddenly noticing that there was a vacant bed with the sheets ruffled and messily put together, Gil's eyes set on a resting figure in a chair next to her bed. Arm in a sling and a patch on his chin. He looked exhausted even though he had probably been sleeping for hours now. Finally, there was a brunette sitting up against the backboard, watching the others peacefully. Her left arm was bandaged from wrist to shoulder and slightly bloodstained in a few places.

Upon hearing the door sway open, her eyes followed the sound to meet Prussia's as he walked in and stood at the side of the bed. "Is everyone all right?" he questioned, still worried about their wellbeing.

Hungary nodded, smiling lightly. "When you called to warn us before, I never thought they were what we were going to encounter, especially the big one," she spoke while gently rubbing her bandaged arm. It was still numb with pain, and her face twisted in thought as she did.

Prussia's eyes shifted from her to Austria. Thoughts crossed his mind making his head spin for a moment in confusion. "I drove as fast as I could. Ven ve came up to his house on fire, I zought—"

Hungary gasped before her interruption. "Mr. Switzerland's house was on fire?" Confused to this fact since all she remembered was sprinting out the place with Lichtenstein behind her and sharp pain in her head before blackness. Prussia just nodded. Her emotions calmed and caused her to think what they had all been thinking whenever someone woke up. "Why didn't they kill us?"

Italy's soft voice appeared from behind Prussia. "That's what we've all been wondering ever since." He paused before speaking once more. "We're not sure why they do anything they do."

* * *

><p>Smoke drafted through the small room. A strong feminine voice coughed through the smoke, fanning it away from her face, snapping at the Italians, "Will you put those things out? Smoke outside if you must, I cannot stand the smell of those blasted sticks."<p>

Only rolling his eyes in response, Cesare pulled the Camel from his mouth and snuffed it out in the ashtray. "Fine, fine," he remarked. No matter how bad a criminal he was, in a way, he was still a gentleman…. In a way.

Bernardo on the other hand took a long drag and exhaled the smoke before setting his on the rim leaving it to burn out on its own. Woman: a creature he could never be an ass to. No matter how obvious it was through though they deny it, some traits from their original selves still lingered in them.

Adolf and Reinhard had been rather happy; having another Nazi in the group was nice who took up the name Heinrich. The dark-haired brunette, Julia, muttered a thank you to the Italians. She didn't exactly like being in a group with all men, but she had already threatened to slip arsenic in their drinks if they thought to try any funny business.

Another woman, rather a girl, was in the group as well. Her shy and quiet composure left her to sit away from everyone else. Giving herself the name Elisabeth, she sat in a chair off to the side quietly thinking to herself and watching the others speak about their individual plans and deciding what paths would be better to take in order to achieve their goals.

A small hiss brought her away from her curious thoughts to the creature that kneeled beside her. His bright, lavender eyes stared with a gentle feel to them, none he had shared with any of the others since he split off. Neither of them shared a word but rather enjoyed their presence together and their silent company.

In another room, a blonde was tucked away under a thin sheet on a small and firm cot. His forehead burned with fever and coughed harshly every so often, his mouth covered by a cloth so not to spread bacteria through the air. Whenever he tried to breathe deep, his chest would writhe with pain; it was already difficult enough for him to breathe. Oddly, he was fine just the other day and suddenly he grew the fever and began coughing, became bedridden, and hasn't gotten up since, only to use the restroom. Food and water was brought to him by one of the others. Unwilling to lose one of their own, but not being able to afford being caught, Reinhard, Julia, and Heinrich thieved some antibiotics from a nearby pharmacy.

With no signs of recovery, all they could do was wait and continue with the treatment, hoping it would work.

Octave tapped a bored finger on the table, looking at the maps and multiple papers spread across the top. "When are we planning our initial take over? We've discussed it many times over, but we can never seem to come to any term of agreement."

"I still believe we should try for more allies," Hernan muttered aloud. "We have more of a chance surviving if we have more numbers on our side."

Edward gave the conquistador a stern sideways glance, rather annoyed with the fact that he wanted to procrastinate the plans when their numbers were sufficient enough. "An' I say we just stifle all o' that and let this broadside be done already," the pirate sneered.

"Easy, you two," Adolf said calmly before an argument could be started between the two. Everyone was getting rather tired or arguing, but it was usually Adolf who had to step in and start anything before it started, as usual. All of it was giving him more headaches than needed. "Now," he began once more, "I am going to end zis discussion and zis vill be our plan: we have access to supplies that ve can craft bombs out of. Ve shall choose a city and plant ze bombs in certain areas around the limits and set zem off, doing a large amount of damage. All ve have to do is choose a city. Any suggestions?"

Adolf looked over everyone in their thoughts. A few suggestions were thrown out: Berlin, Moscow, Paris, Pamplona, Rome. None of them seemed to be striking enough for everyone to agree on. "Why not where all this started in the first place?" Cesare asked with a smug grin. The suggestion was not given as such, but rather said to let the others know that it would be the choice location for such a plan. "Venice."


	14. Yesterday

Hey, guys. I know the last post for this chapter was a little short, so I added some more content and fixed some typos. It's not much longer than the last, but I hope you all like it better :D

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><p>A sigh escaped his lips, a gentle but unnerved sigh. His eyes peered on the hospital that lay before them. "Why can't we help them?" Many that passed by graced the two and they nodded their return.<p>

The older of the two looked gently but sternly. "They need to do this on their own. You already helped them without permission."

Their white gowns blew in the breeze that gently passed by, sensing the unease between the two. It swayed around them almost wanting them to calm their nerves. The smaller male looked at the ground and back up. "It would've been disastrous if they were to continue. They weren't ready to fight."

Even he had to admit, his younger brother was right. Tossing the Molotov in the fight was the right thing to do. "That interference could have changed things around in the future, though."

"I know it did. But at least we know there's one flaw. They can't kill the original them or else it would cause their deaths as well. Suicide."

"Suicide never prospers, and they know that. They've been careful so far, but if they get reckless, we could be in danger of death as well."

The older started to walk away before the other noticed and gracefully and happily followed, grasping his brother's hand in his. A light blush appeared on the older brother as he side-eyed the younger calmly. "What are we going to eat tonight?"

"Anything, as long as Selaphiel doesn't so much as look at it, will be fine for me."

The younger giggled and squeezed the hand he held tighter, pushing himself closer that, with the sway of their strides, entangled their long necklaces together, clinking against one another.

* * *

><p>"So tell us," America said, looking over the four patients, "what the hell happened for you to wind up here."<p>

Looking at each other and exchanging glances, Austria was the first to speak up, "We are not quite sure. They must have been stalking us for a few days, because they knew when to strike."

"Horrible timing on our part," added Hungary. "They assaulted us the night we were driving home late from an orchestra concert." She spared a sharp glance at Austria. "Standing right in the middle of the road, the Nazis. At first, we thought it was just some prank, but when that…" — she searched for a word that would best fit the wendigo — "thing approached, I spun the truck around and bailed out of there. Not long after, they were behind us, shooting at the tires of my truck."

"Luckily we were able to outrun them for the time. It was then I decided to never get in another vehicle with her as a driver again."

Prussia chuckled lightly. "Isn't zat ze truth."

Giving them both a look, Hungary continued. "We called Switzerland, unsure of where anyone of you would be at the time. He told us to come to his house, that he'd assist us. When we got there and settled for the first hour, those guys barged in and attacked. That's when Austria called you lot. I was helping defend against them, that's when it attacked me." Again, she rubbed her bandaged arm as the flashback passed through her mind. "They all came through, overpowering us. I took Lichtenstein and ran out of the house, hoping to get away. Didn't get far if I ended up here."

Everyone was silent for a moment. The air was stale with sweat, and the smell of dried blood plagued underneath the other scents. Sunlight shone through the curtains disappearing every so often as a cloud veiled the rays.

Breaking the silence with a clear of his throat, England said, "They could strike anywhere next." Tension emitted from each country standing in the room. The horrible, ugly truth stared at them like an old monster hiding in the closet: waiting and watching for the perfect moment to strike at its prey.

"We'll just have to wait," Italy muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. "It's all we can do."

Germany set a warm hand on the Italian's shoulder, comforting him. "Ve vill be ready ven zat happens." His voice made Italy smile and warm up. "Let us get somezing to eat."

"I will join you both," Japan said. "If you do not mind."

In the cafeteria, the three of them sat in silence while they picked and ate at the food, if you could call it that, in front of them. Unsure of what they could think of, conversations consisted of rather short small talk with awkward silences between them that about what they had been involved in before this incident ever happened.

A thought traveled through Italy's mind, making him smile as he remembered the times before.

Noticing, Germany looked questioningly at Italy. He had not seen the kid smile like this in what seemed like so long. He enjoyed seeing Italy smile. It made him feel like smiling as well. Japan had also noticed and was staring at the Italian as well.

Without looking up from his food he said, "Remember the first day we met, Germany? And the first day we met you, Japan?"

Shocked and awestruck the two were that Italy had brought this up suddenly. They quickly exchanged looks before returning to Italy staring at his food.

"And when we were stuck on that island."

"That is right. It was when we had decided on our united title."

"Ze axis," muttered Germany. He pushed the unappealing food around on his plate with his fork, not wishing to eat when his thoughts were already fogged.

"We've had a lot of great adventures together, haven't we?" Italy asked. His smile faded for a moment. "And a lot of not so great, too. Some times were easy and other times they weren't."

"Nothing worthwhile ever is." Italy looked up to meet Japan's eyes. Knowing he was right, he gave a short nod.

"I am never driving with you again," Japan muttered as the flashback crossed his eyes. "Curse Westerns and their rack of speed rimits."

"Who gave you a license anyvay?" Germany was curious. With someone like how Italy can, or used to, be it was hard to imagine that Italy even had a driver's license.

"Fratello helped me with my driving before I got my license. Took me a year and a half, though."

"I am not surprised. It was hard to berieve that you were riterate when Germany-san read that note you reft."

Italy's eyes widened for a second. "Oh, that note." Italy looked at Germany with regret lining his eyes. "I'm sorry I betrayed you."

Germany blinked with unchanging eyes, only answering with, "I forgave you, did I not?"

"But why? After such a cowardly move."

Gently, Germany grasped Italy's hand and brought it to his lips. "You vere my only friend for ze longest time. You vere my first friend. Even zough you betrayed me, it vould have been cruel of me not to forgive you."

A warm smile and blush rushed over Italy's face. There was that smile again. How was that smile so irresistible? Oh, it didn't matter anyway. All that mattered was keep everyone safe and alive and having Italy to love.

"I'm worried and scared. If someone dies this time, I can't go back and try again."

Setting a caring hand on his shoulder, Germany said, "Not everyzing in zat event vas bad. It brought all of us closer. Ve all became an alliance. Not as countries, but as humans."

Italy grasped the large hand. "Ludwig…"

"Germany-san is right. Even in times where things looked bleak, there have always been good things to come out of it. All the challenges that we have all faced together, we have defeated. This time, it will be no exception. We have always found a way and we always will."

"Vise vords, Japan." Germany was impressed. Then again, Japan was a storage unit for philosophic words and phrases and always had a good pep-talk or two for any situation.

"Arigato."

"We can't relax yet. Not until this is fully over. I have a really bad feeling." Italy started to shake. Sickness welled up in his stomach. Unable to hold himself calm, he rushed to the nearest bathroom and vomited. The two other worried and frightened countries followed him, asking if he was all right. When his answer turned negative, they helped him back to the room the others were staying at, stopping twice along the way.

"Italy?" France was the first to notice them enter. "Is he all right?"

"He's zrown up."

Italy moaned in pain and grasped at his chest. "My heart…"

England had a thought. "Hold on a second." He grabbed the tv remote and flicked on the news station.

"Oh, no…"


	15. We Ruled the Earth

Hey guys! Just a quick note that I added more to the last chapter if you would like to re-read that ^^ I also took a different turn with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it :D

Disclaimer: I don't own any Hetalia characters or the series

Claimer: I, however, do own their personas.

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><p><em>October 3, 2011<em>

_ Rai News 24_

_ Italy_

_ "Today we bring you a terrifying story about a terrorist attack in northern Venice this afternoon. The attack began with a small group of people defended by what seemed like some kind of nightmarish creature. Civilians in and around the area are advised to evacuate immediately. Military personnel are being transported to the city as we speak to detain these terrorists. All is planned to go well, although the creature does not seem to be phased by anything pitted against it and continues to ravage the streets and even devouring some of the victims."_

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><p><em> October 8<em>_th__, 2011_

_ ARD Tagesschau_

_ Germany_

_ "Led by the same creature as the attack on Venice, a new band in what seem to be dressed in Nazi uniforms along with a few others, at least ten in total, have invaded Berlin and are terrorizing the streets, shooting anyone they can see. The city and surrounding area are being evacuated immediately in hopes some will evade this horrifying scene."_

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><p><em> October 20<em>_th__, 2011_

_ A3N Antena 3 Noticias_

_ Spain_

_ "A bomb was set off today in three major cities today along with a few minor cities: Barcelona, Pamplona, Madrid, Saragossa, and Burgos are among the few to be attacked by this newfound threat that seems to be spreading across Europe. So far, none have been able to stop this unstoppable group. Some fear that it is impossible to."_

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><p><em> November 26<em>_th__, 2011_

_ TBS_

_ Japan_

_ "It seems that most cities around the world have fallen to this underlying threat that just cannot be stopped. Being so cruel in nature and skilled in weapons, they have wiped out every innocent person in their wake. Contact has been made with their leader, who has only had this to say, 'We will only cease our reign until every nation in the world has given in to our superiority. It is the only way anyone will survive.' Despite these facts and that those countries and cities not affected, it seems like it is only a matter of time before they reach Tokyo as well. Everyone is advised to take shelter and stay inside for any hopes of survival."_

* * *

><p><em> December 25, 2011<em>

_ CNN_

_ United States of America_

_ "A sad day for Christmas, for sure. If you can even call it Christmas. With the streets empty of any holiday cheer or decorations to celebrate the spirit of Christmas, it seems all people are wishing for now is peace and that these villains be stopped. Only a few countries left still holding out; Russia, Germany, Japan, China, Israel, and our own America. Our supplies and defenses grow less and less every day, and theirs only growing stronger, it's only a matter of time before our spirits are broken._

* * *

><p><em> January 3<em>_rd__, 2012_

_ Rai News 24_

_ Italy_

_ Broadcast to the world_

_ "Hello to all who will be watching this whether now or within the next week, which is all the time I'll have to air this. My name is Cesare. We have fully taken total control of every country on every continent."_

_ "Except Antarctica. That's the only place we weren't able to reach."_

_ "No one's ever claimed Antarctica, you idiot. What resources could we possibly need there? Penguins?"_

_ "Fish? Seal and whale fat?"_

_ Whack! "Shut up, you. As I was saying before that, we have taken complete control. Any means of resistance will result in immediate execution or undergo tormenting torture for information. Unless we figure out your family, if you still have one by this time, and kill them leaving you alive to grieve and mourn your actions. Wouldn't want that now would we? 'Course not. I have a brother and definitely wouldn't want him to die."_

_ "I know you wouldn't give two shits if I died."_

_ "Ahem… And to make sure a resistance won't be a problem, we have surveillance around each country 24/7. Survival is now of your own means from this point forward._

* * *

><p>The week had finally ended; the news broadcast was shut off. By that time, everyone in the world, wherever electricity was, knew of what was going on. Countries in poverty were given the news within the week by means of translators and soon, dictators. The counterparts of the countries themselves were the ones to dictate the countries.<p>

Within a week after, hell began to break loose. Large supply and grocery stores were broken in to and robbed as soon as civilization figured out that money was now worthless (or rather at the moment it was). Water was supplied only by the running water towers in each city and town, barely able to function at times. Food was high supply at the start, being able to steal any and all rations anyone could carry or stuff into their clothes or a shopping cart. These supplies would go fast or slow whether the person or people would be able to control their intake and hunger. Some would know how to deal with situations like this properly. Others wouldn't be able to control their hunger, their need for sustenance based on a well fed lifestyle of fatty foods and flavored drinks.

Gangs began to rise and rule the streets. Violence became a part of everyday life for many, unable to retreat from it, unable to run away. Rape, whether it be man, woman, or, god forbid, child, grew more common among some gangs and struck fear in many who would be presumed "too weak to join" and would often be used for dirty labor or put down.

For the first few weeks money was of no importance. Old currencies and coins were of no bother trying to keep. Old euros floated and scattered the streets, abandoned by their owners as stores and shopping centers began to slowly close down. After three weeks, the dictators began to open stores they approved of and hired capable managers and workers to keep these up. New currency was printed and exchanged with whatever old currency was still held by some at banks, news of this was distributed through newspapers of new prints.

Soon after this incident, houses started being occupied once again. Electricity and water, however, wasn't a privilege, and owners had to come up with other ways to light and bring water to their homes. Gangs split up as the police force was formed through members sought fit by the dictators themselves. Gangs were officially outlawed, though some countries let this slide, like Italy with the Mafia. Laws, though, were _not_ taken lightly. Any form of theft would lead to a severed hand. Some dictators did not care about murder and let it slide. Others, however, punished this dead not with fighting fire with fire, but by the form of torture for a set number of years. Other forms of crime, destruction or damage of property, abuse, rape, etc., are some crimes that will be punished upon whoever the dictator seems fit.

Hospitals, drug stores, and other medical facilities were only open to anyone of government status. Ordinary citizens were banned from hospitals unless they were able to afford whatever they were seeking. Most couldn't. People who grew ill had to be tended without the use of medication, seeking other remedies, or died from severity of these sicknesses. Those with diseases such as cancer and STD's were given no support and left to deal with these ordeals on their own, letting them suffer from these illnesses.

Television, internet, and cell phones were cut and shut down. Computers and phones were no longer of any use to the world. Televisions were replaced with newspapers; phones were replaced, eventually, with handwritten letters. Celebrities, musicians, and anyone else of the sort were fired, sucked of their fame and wealth, and kicked out of the business indefinitely.

However, law still varies from country to country. Even though the dictators themselves are however evil and sinister beings, they aren't black and white. They have morals, as well. After all, what fun would ruling the world be if everyone was killed off? They already controlled everything, why push it further?

Even with this knowledge, if there was anything anyone would agree on, it's sure a horrible place to live. Some even put it to living in the dark ages but in a more modern era.

* * *

><p><em> Thump... Thump... Thump... Thump...<em>

The deserted street around him echoed his footsteps in an odd manor. Never had it been so quiet in this side of the city before. Venice was usually full of life and sound and talk day and night. Now as the clouds loomed over the city with pockets of blue sticking through, it was quiet lonely and depressing. In a way it bothered him, the feeling of loneliness and melancholy wavered in his heart. Possibly from the fact he was still part of Italy itself, yet something still tugged at his heartstrings. A low hum of thought emitted from his throat as he pondered, eyes toward the ground in thought, exactly what else stirred within him.

He stopped in his tracks, blocked by the sound of a familiar clicking noise. Looking up, he was met with the barrel of a Beretta 92. The holder of this handgun seemed to be affiliated with a gang and was looking for something whether it be money, a hostage, or simply an initiation. Whatever it was, the man picked the wrong person to mess with.

"You," he stated threateningly. "You're coming with me."

Cesare only blinked in annoyance. Uninterested at the fact the man had enough guts and stupidity to face him. Yet, it amused him as the smirk on his face became apparent. Surely more than once he had a gun pointed to his face and still lived to tell how the residue still peppered the end of the barrel and how the fine powder smelt for each encounter.

"Hey! I ain't joking with ya! Start moving if you want to live!" The barrel was now pressed to Cesare's forehead. The touch of cold metal sent a chill of excitement gushing through his own veins. This left him to chuckle, his smirk growing ever-wider.

With quick reflexes, Cesare grabbed the wrist of the gang member and pull it away from his head and down towards the ground. The force of the pull shocked the man, instinctively setting off the trigger and burying a bullet into the pavement. With their foreheads inches apart and eyes locked on each other's. Cesare had his own beloved pistol pointing against the underside of the man's chin. "I don't deal with shit like you."

Before given the chance to speak, Cesare fired a round into the man's head, shattering the skull as it exited the body. Lifeless, he collapsed to the ground blood beginning to pool around the head.

Picking up and looking over the Beretta, Cesare wondered how he had come to own an expensive gun like this. No matter, it was his prize now.

* * *

><p>Elisabeth walked down the sidewalk of a Switzerland town. So used to being here, she was. Mourning the loss of her big brother, she had decided to take time to herself and walked and walked, rested some and then continued to walk once again. No matter where she walked in the large city, she knew she wouldn't get lost. The memories she shared with her other self guaranteed her way around the city without becoming lost.<p>

Turning a corner, she came across a small, desolate stretch of street. It looked more like a shortcut. As she swiftly made her way across, a hand reached out an alleyway and pulled her in the darkness and pushed her against the wall. Elisabeth tried to scream, but a large hand covered her mouth and another held her tough as she struggled.

"Look what we have here. What's a beautiful thing like this wondering the streets alone?" The shine of a blade flashed in the darkness, frightening her even more.

Another voice talking, a man she had not noticed, frightened her even more. "Didn' your mommy ever tell you not to wander out alone?"

Her breathing increased, shaking with fear, as a hand brushed her side, feeling the dress she wore. A small squeak escaped her covered mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, overflowing as she was overpowered and felt helpless as the hand moved over her chest. Out of all the times, why did her big brother have to leave her at this time? Oh, god, why?

As she felt the cold steel of the blade against her leg, a hiss vibrated the air around them. "Closssse your eyessssssss," the hiss said low.

Elisabeth did just that, closing her eyes to shield herself from the horrific scene about to unfold.

"You heard that, didn't you?" one of the men asked.

"Ya, I heard it. But where- what the fuck is that?"

Both the men screamed and several rounds of gunshots were heard, but the hiss grew more angry and frightening. Elisabeth was released of the man's grasp, her legs giving out from fear. Before the attack, a screech shattered the air and drowned out all other noise. Elisabeth covered her ears as the screech was emitted and drowned out the squelches of flesh being ripped from bone and tearing skin filled the silence afterwards.

The air was still once again. The girl still refused to open her eyes, afraid of the scene that would lay before her. She jumped and squeaked as a long, bony hand wrapped around her small frame. A low, calm growl came to her ears, telling her not to be afraid.

Picking her up in an arm, Swiftrunner scaled the building leaving the bloody scene behind him. The unpleasant aroma of death and rot did not bother Elisabeth for the moment. Once they were moving from rooftop to rooftop, she opened her eyes. The world came fuzzy at first but focused quickly. She found herself pressed close to the creature, arms wrapped tight around his neck for comfort and support from slipping as he jumped.

Once they returned to the main building they called home, he saw she was still shaking from the incident. "Are you... all right?"

Unable to wrap her head around what had, or rather what had almost, happened, she sat down, her voice shaking as tears came to her eyes once more.

With a soft growl, he took the body language and kneeled next to the chair, coming just above her height as he did.

After a while, she had stopped crying but still sat in the chair, trying hard not to think of what happened. She glanced to her right and eyed the wendigo. "Thank you," she muttered. His eyes moved to her and nodded without a word but a comforting growl.

* * *

><p>"Such fond memories, eh, bruder?" Reinhard asked as he scanned the haunted-looking land that was once Auschwitz. The double-cordoned, electric fences that lined the perimeter were still in tact though safe to touch.<p>

"Ja," Adolf responded, observing the crematory at the edge of the camp. He had been here several times during the Holocaust. The atmosphere still held the same aura as did before: sadness, hopelessness, and death. Though the air was free of the smell of burning bodies, ash, and sickness. They both had rather enjoyed seeing all the people imprisoned in here suffering, but now as the famous concentration camp stood void, it seemed to be longing life. The particles in the air seemed to vibrate as their presence graced the area with each step.

"You feel it, too, don't you?"

Adolf only nodded to his brother. They both had the same sinister thought in mind. Smiles crossed their faces as each of them knew exactly what to do.

* * *

><p>"What the bloody hell is this?" Edward asked, holding up a pen to the three that sat in front of him. Between them was a pile of unknown things that the pirate had never seen before and was curious.<p>

"It's a pen," Hernan answered. He leaned back in his chair, leaning on the two back legs of the chair as well. "You write with it."

"Facsinatin'. Where's the ink that ye dip it in?"

"There isn't an ink bottle," Octave said. "The ink's on the inside." He took the pen from Edward and clicked the top, revealing the nib, and wrote on a piece of paper. Edward seemed rather excited about this object. It would be most useful to him.

"What about this here thing?"

Hernan took a look at the bottle and shook it, watching the shimmering liquid slosh around inside. "Nail polish. Must be Julia's. Only women usually wear this. But on occasion, in this time nowadays, some guys will wear it, too."

"Looks like blood, mate." He shuffled through again before pulling out a white cat plush. The two seemed confused at the object. Not with what it was, but where he had found it.

A thin hand snatched the plush from his hands. The man who had been previously silent, and forgotten about, brushed the toy off as the others stared at him.

"What?" he snapped a light blush appeared on his cheeks.

"A doll?" Hernan asked.

"It is not a doll, arhu! Plush and doll are different." With a frustrated sigh, he stood up. He pointed a hard finger at Edward. "Stay out of my room, ahru. I warn you."

Hernan just looked back at Edward. "It's a doll."

"It not a doll!" A book came spinning at Hernan, smacking him right in the face and teetering him off balance. The chair fell backwards, shoving all the air out of Hernan's lungs. Edward and Octave began laughing.

"Ah! My fucking lungs!"

Hernan stood up, trying to ignore the pain in his back and suck air into his lungs. He picked up the book and looked at it. _Classic of Poetry_ the title read. Rubbing his head, he made a mental note about the poetry before turning his chair on all four legs and sitting flat in it again.

* * *

><p>Nathan, Shinobu, and Vadim all sat around a small table in the same room as the others previously spoken of. Cards were piled neatly in a deck while others were in a smaller, let neat pile for discard. Five cards in each hand as the poker game carried on.<p>

"So," Vadim started, discarding two cards and drawing two more, "why the hate for coloreds?"

Nathan tensed at the question as if set off a sensitive subject. "Just because those damned bastards were enslaved that they're more special than white people. Damn negros... fold." He set the hand face-down against the table.

"Why do you say that, Nathan-san?" He set his cards face-up. "Full house."

"Royal flush," Vadim spoke with a smirk as he showed his cards. "I win again."

"I'm starting to think you're cheating," Nathan growled.

Vadim just smiled. "I do not need to cheat to win."

He hummed and reshuffled the cards. "What I mean is that if you see a negro standing in the streets yelling 'blacks should be more united!' then he's a symbol. But if you see a white guy saying that, he's racist." He sighed and handed out the cards. "Think they're so special don't they? Well they can just suck my-"

"Nathan, I do berieve that not every brack is portrayed as that."

"Does it look like I really give a damn?" He lazily tossed three cards in the discard pile before drawing three. His eyes silently gleamed as he stuffed the new cards into his hand. "I can't stand them at all."

"Opinions differ from person to person," Vadim plainly spoke. "I fold... I try not to hate one group. I just hate everyone. Makes things easier."

"Whatever you say, Red."

Vadim rolled his eyes at the racial response.

"Hmph. You both are acting rike chirdren."

Nathan set his cards down. "Full house. Ha! Bet you can't beat that, Shin."

"I would not boast so soon. Straight."

"Poker fucking hates me."

"I thought all cowboys were good at poker," Vadim muttered to the side.

Nathan sneered. "You would."

Vadim just gave him a fake smile. Truly, in his mind he was thinking of tying the little prick and stabbing him repeatedly until he stopped bleeding, whether he was alive or dead.


	16. A Final Dream

Sorry for the late update. Got procrastination catching up to me. Also, sorry for making any romance scenes shorter than i usually would. Just got stuff going on.

Well anyway, hope you enjoy this rather long update.

* * *

><p>Italy barreled down the road. A large item wrapped in newspaper was stuffed under his arm. Several large men followed after him as bullets whizzed by him. His lungs seared from the quick bursts of speed that was being put against his legs. Each hard footfall felt like he would be closer to giving out and collapsing. At least a break seemed to be given to him. A large group of people gathered around a building with tv's in the window. People shouted and made a ruckus as Italy pushed through them. His pursuers followed, getting caught up with the people giving Italy enough time to sneak into an alleyway and scurry into an empty tin trashcan for cover.<p>

The angry voices from the crowd rose above the sound from the news channel. The voices argued and shot at the group that had been chasing Italy. The rumpus only lasted a short moment before it slowly died down as several clicks and pads of the soles of shoes hitting concrete passed by the alleyway. Shortly afterward, the only sound that could be heard was the constant repetitive stories and announcements over the channel from the barred windows.

Italy was hesitant to jump out of the trashcan, no matter how bad it smelled on the inside, he was unaware of the surroundings on the outside. The pursuers could be right outside the alley, eyes on the news out of curiosity or merely waiting for him to pop out of the alley for them to pounce their prey.

A bright slit of light filtered from the lid of the can being slightly off for a steady amount of oxygen to flow. From the outside, he heard no other noises aside from the news. No shuffling of rigged and jagged pants or jeans. No scraping of shoes against the pavement. No mumbling that didn't sound like it was muffled behind glass.

Taking a gulp of bravery, he lifted the lid of the trashcan up, soundless. Gripping the wrapped item of interest close to his chest like a child with a new teddy, he set the lid against the side of the can and hauled his feet over the edge of the metal. He crept to the end of the alley and peeked out. To his surprise and utter relief, he was alone on the street, save for a few wanderers and shoppers out for whatever food they could afford for the family; mostly bread and salted pork maybe some eggs or even beans.

It was only a short trip from here to base, he thought with haste as he ran at a jogging pace being cautious of his surroundings. Even if he was free of the other gang, he could easily be picked off again if the package was seen.

There it was! Home base not too far. He knew he was home free now. Coming up to the door of the old, rundown building, he knocked thrice before pausing and knocking twice more.

"King Itchy?" a voice asked from behind the door. Italy giggled on the inside at the sound of hearing Japan say that.

Italy cheerfully replied, "Yellow Tide." The door opened to his words. He stepped in quickly with the door closing behind him.

"You are back, Italy," Germany was the first to say.

His brother huffed as he leaned against the wall. "What-a took so damn long?" Italy had been gone longer than any expected and, even though he'd never admit it out loud, Romano had been worried.

"I had to take a detour," Italy breathed happily. He pulled the object from his chest and handed it to Germany with a wide grin on his face. "It was worth it."

Everyone in the group, besides France and China who had gone out in search for food or any source of money, gazed curiously at the wax wrapped shape. Taking the corners, Germany unwrapped it. No one had expected what was inside, though all of them had hoped what it was.

Wrapped in the wax was a freshly baked loaf of German bread. It had still been warm to the touch as Germany picked it up to examine it. The succulent scent of the breath waved and taunted their smell as they breathed it in. Boy, did it smell good.

"Where did you come across this?" England questioned.

Everyone looked at Italy for an answer. Shyly, he put his hands behind his back and shrugged. "I was walking around, looking for anything that could help us, and I spotted a group of three people mugging a guy who had just come out of a bakery. Just as he was handing over the bread, I ran between them and took it. I ran for my life after that. I didn't even know what it was as I ran or up until now."

"That was a damn stupid-a thing to pull off, dimwit," his brother scolded.

Italy's smile disappeared for a moment.

"But," Romano looked away, admitting out of embarrassment, "it was still the right thing to do. In a hellish time like-a this. Wha-! Get the hell off of me! This is no time for hugs!"

"It vas a brave zing for you to do, Italy. Ve all appreciate it." Germany looked down at Italy, nodding in approval, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Indeed, we owe you our thanks, Itary."

America eyed the bread with drool dripping off the corner of his mouth. In turn, his stomach rumbled loudly. "Man, that bread sure does look delicious right about now. It looks like a hamburger to me."

"Everything looks like a rank hamburger, you git," England commented to himself not bothering to lower his voice.

"Aren't you hungry, too?"

England made eye contact with the American. "Of course I am. All of us here are. But we've all been through something like this before. If I recite your history, did you not go through a similar phase they called The Great Depression?"

America was silent for a moment. Memories flashed of when that time had occurred. It did remind him of this in a way, only more dangerous. He itched his arm under his bomber jacket in thought. "I barely survived that."

"But you still survived," Spain piped up after being oddly quiet for the time.

"Survivors are strong and rise above all ozers zat fall and die because zey can't." Prussia rose to his feet. The sleeping bird chirped on his head, disturbed by the sudden motion. "Ve have dealt with worse times before zis and before zat even. Ve have survived zrough it all, and ve shall do so again."

The speech left everyone in the room quiet, save for the slight chirping and snoring of the resting duo of animals that were in the room and another. Likewise, Canada was also asleep with nothing better to do, cuddling Kumajirou close to him in his sleep.

They all knew it was true. Prussia was always good at giving a short pep talk when someone needed it.

Several swift knocks cracked against the door. "King Itchy and Soy Cat," the voice of China said from outside the door. Each of them had quite odd nicknames that were settled on group vote rather than chosen by the person themselves. Each was unique and odd in it's own sense.

The door was opened and the two hurried in. "We were able to find some coins on the street," China said, holding out the Euros.

"Good," England said with a smile. "Every little bit counts. The jar is over by the stairs."

The jingle of metals clicking together as the change was being dropped into a jar. Looking around the room, Italy took in all the details of their makeshift headquarters. The walls were bare, stripped of any paint. All that remained was the gray concrete underneath. Large wooden boards covered up the windows on the bottom floor, protecting them from easy robberies. Sunlight shone through a large space in the ceiling that would get boarded up at night. The second story was an open area with the wall blown out of it most likely from a bomb that one of their personas had used when he came through the city. This place, they decided, would be called home for now. Or whatever was left of it anyway.

Later on, they all split the bread and saved half of it for the next night. The portion sizes were small compared to what could've been, but anything counted nowadays and was better than nothing at all. A light conversation was carried on between them. Some of them, like Spain, talked as if there wasn't even this situation going on in the first place. Others, like Germany and China, were trying to figure out what their next moves would be. If they wanted to stay safe from the personas, they'd have to figure out how to cover their trails better. They were surprised wanted posters haven't been hung up in search for them. Then again, it could only be a matter of time.

* * *

><p>Cesare had been pacing around the room for some time now. His mind raced with different thoughts, ideas, and plans. The others, most of them, were gathered around the table talking amongst themselves about their next moves.<p>

"I say that anyone zat defies our laws gets locked up in ze camps," Adolf concluded.

"Yes," Nathan agreed.

Ying wavered a hand at the idea. "It would show discipline, ahru. We would be more feared."

"Cesare, why don't you join us in the discussion?"

He paused for a moment. "I'm trying to figure out how we're going to capture them. We're still vulnerable if they're alive."

"Relax," Reinhard said. "A plan for zat has already been made."

Another pause as he looked up at the Nazi. "Oh?"

Leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on the table, he simply answered. "Ve figured instead of having us do all ze dirty vork, just let ze people do it. Set out a payment for zem but in reality, ve just kill zem. Saves us ze trouble and ze money, too."

"And what after we have them? Kill them right away?"

"That would be going easy on them," Vadim muttered. "We figured at least a little torture would see fit to them."

"Seems like you have it all planned out already."

Adolf gestured a hand at him. "Ja, now come join ze conversation vith us."

"Can I have a smoke while I'm at it?" he asked noting Julia not being around.

Bernardo held up a cigarette to his brother. "Have one of mine. I need to get more later anyway."

Cesare uttered a thanks before putting the end in his mouth and lighting the exposed end. He took a long drag and blew out the smoke before taking a seat next to Bernardo. "Now, what were we discussing again?"

"Our laws and if anyone fails to follow," Hernan spoke.

A smile crept to his lips. "How are the camps doing? They up and running yet?"

"Just about. Ze need a few altercations before ve can say zey are functioning. Besides zat, zey are ready venever ve decide to enforce ze new laws." Adolf showed a map of the camps that still stood in Germany. "Some of zem vere destroyed during ze var, but a few of zem still stand as historic attractions to zis day."

Bernardo let out a light chuckle at the thought. "Saving relics of war as historic attractions? I bet if they would've known what we had planned for them, they wouldn't have let them stand any longer. Humans surprise me sometimes."

"Indeed. Now, I have one thing about capturing our others." Everyone paused to hear Nathan. "Now, it just occurred to me, but how are we going to get people to recognize them? I would suggest wanted posters but then we'd need pictures. Some of us would be able to pose, but some of us are different. Like Swiftrunner for instance."

"We will just have to hold out on them and get the more similar-"

"Actually," Cesare interrupted. "I have a much better plan in mind." A light but disturbing chuckle echoed out his throat as the all-too-familiar grin crossed his face.

* * *

><p>A week later after the events previous, the night was rather peaceful. Prussia sat awake in the night keeping watch. Only a few candles lit the room everyone was sleeping in. Russia laid away from the others, as did China. The two were rather close together, however. Italy and Germany slept side-by-side, the German's arms wrapped tight around the smaller one. Spain and Romano slept against the wall, an arm around the Italian's shoulder. America, Canada, France, and England slept close to the other four. They all looked peaceful in their sleep. Most likely having dreams of another time that was never like this.<p>

The albino sighed to himself, gently stroking his finger against the bird's head sleeping in his hand. How they had all wished that none of this had happened. He looked at Italy. It wasn't his fault, he knew. Still, however, he wondered how it even started with him. What had happened to Italy for that side of his to split off? His curiosity grew but pushed it to the back of his mind. He would save it for another time.

A thin band of red filtered through the edge of the boarded up windows. Was it really morning already? He must've been in thought longer than he had realized. He looked at his younger brother. He should be waking up soon by now. Always an early bird as the saying goes.

The sun soon rose higher into the sky. All the countries in the room were awake by now. Japan and Canada went out looking for food this time. As America had suggested, now one ever notices the guy so it'd be easy for him to get food. At least that was the plan. If nothing else, Japan had his katana with him if anything went amiss.

"We have to keep moving soon," England spoke out. "It won't be safe here for very long. We already know those prats are after us."

France retorted his own argument, "If we move out, we could be easy targets."

"We're sitting ducks as it is. We'd be less of a target if we were able to keep moving and cover more ground."

Germany sighed at the annoyance of the two going off. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Italy shift in his place. He was nervous about something, but what it was he wondered. As he focused on the two dummkopfs fighting it out, Italy approached him nervously.

"Um... Germany?" He paused and waited for the man to look up at him. Nervously spinning his first fingers around each other in front of his chest, they separated as he spoke, gesturing with his hands. "May I see you for a moment, in the next room?"

With surprise in his eyes, he nodded and followed Italy to the next room. The sunlight didn't reach them as far as the main living area, but it was bright enough for them to see each other in the glow. "Vat is it, Italy?"

Not having faced Germany for the moment, he paused to mutter to himself. He turned on his heels, something Germany had not seen in months now, and stared into his amazing sky-blue eyes. "I was just thinking. With everything going on, we hadn't been able to get into our relationship as much as we could have."

Curious to see where this was going, Germany just nodded in agreement.

Italy's eyes shifted away for a moment before meeting again. "I was thinking that if anything gets worse, if anything happens to us, I-" He paused again, unsure of how to word the sentence. A blush flashed across his face. "I want us to have our first kiss. Right here."

Blinking, Germany was unsure how to react to it. Their first true kiss. Sure, they had given each other kisses on the foreheads or cheeks before. Never on the lips, however. Noticing how the pause made Italy shift nervously, Germany wrapped an arm around his slender form. "Ja, I zink ve should."

Pulling him closer, their lips met in a moment of joy and excitement. Passion exploded in their hearts as they pulled each other ever closer together. Fingers entangled through hair and cloth as their arms held tight to each other. In the moment, the kiss seemed to last an eternity. Oh, how they wish it had, how they wish they could stay like this forever. Forgetting all the matters and hard times in this era. Just be together in one-another's arms for the rest of their lives.

A shake in the earth, quiet and soft at first, vibrated through the ground. With each passing second, the quivers grew more and more, louder and louder until it felt as if it were on top of them. The two separated and quickly joined the others.

"Those are tanks going through the town," Spain informed.

America's expression grew worried and panicked. "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know," Germany said.

"I hope Japan and the other one is safe," China said under his breath. However had heard him agreed to that before heading to the second floor to see what all the noise was about. Not without preparing first.

White flags. Never had they thought they'd use them like this. Some would never even touch one of those things. However, as they went into the open and looked out into the street, several soldiers trained their guns on them. Frantic, Italy and Romano flashed large white flags. Germany had suddenly pulled Spain to the side and ordered him that whatever happened that he'd protect Italy. Shocked and unsure, he just nodded and set his promise. Prussia was off to the side trying to calm his frightened chick. Lastly, America was hurriedly distributing white flags to each of the countries on the building.

The troops spotted the flags and slowly turned their attention away, focusing on other people that formed in the streets. All the tanks had ceased and one had opened the hatch. A tall, slim figured scurried out and let out a shrill shriek, piercing the ears of anyone within range, stunning them.

The creature quickly looked around and spotted his prey. Letting out another shriek, he jumped up onto the platform where the countries were. They stayed silent as the wendigo eyed each of them individually. His mere presence froze them in their places.

Moving to the side, a three figures appeared behind Swiftrunner. Cesare chuckled as he held a rope in his hands. "You can always run, but you can never hide from us." He looked at Swiftrunner. "With this bloodhound here, we found you just so easily."

"Nowhere to go this time," Bernardo laughed, taking out a pistol. Likewise, several of the other pulled out their own weapons. Pulling the trigger, Bernardo and Adolf shot the guns out of their hands and drove bullets into a few of their legs.

"Collect the fallen and retreat," Cesare instructed. With that said, Swiftrunner quickly made his way to the countries that had been shot. Among the collected were Spain, America, and Italy.

Angered, Germany drew another pistol from his belt and fired at Swiftrunner. Lodging a whole magazine into the wendigo's hide, he was completely unfazed. Lifting a large hand, he collided it with Germany, throwing him to the side. Hitting the wall, he opened his eyes long enough to see the four of them jump down and back into the tank while Swiftrunner jumped through the streets, running faster than any tank could.

Getting to his feet, Germany ran to the edge of the building. "Italy!" He watched as the creature ran away. The tanks began to retreat. Instinctively, he reached for a grenade in his coat pocket. He grunted in frustration when he found his pocket empty.

"America. Oh, god. This can't be happening! It can't be!"

"Bastards!" Romano shouted out to them. "How dare you take my idiots away from me!"

Russia walked up to the edge of the building. "This is rather unfortunate. Hopefully they will be able to get themselves out."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

Russia just turned and smiled.

* * *

><p>The three captured countries were thrown into a large cell with each other. Heads sore and legs burning with a sharp pain. Spain sat up and looked around. Three others were in the room with them. Each of them were recognized as Sweden, Austria, and Sealand.<p>

"Enjoy your sssssstay." Swiftrunner chuckled. "For it ssshall be a rather long one."

The cell door closed behind them. Italy sat and at the door. "Oh, no." They all had realized that their fears were turning more to reality.


	17. Looking for Angels

Hey guys, this chapter is a bit earlier than usual and during the day as well. I've had a lot of time to write so here you guys go. Things are still going blah for me but whatever. Also, if there are any spelling errors, let me know and I'll fix them. Being a grammar nazi.. yeah. I'd like to fix my errors.

I don't own any of the Hetalia characters, all I own are their opposites, both light and dark. I'll post a note at the bottom saying who all was for the lights.

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><p>The figure dressed in a white robe stared at the others around their little camp. They had been able to seek cover up in the mountains and stay hidden, even with Confucius being as big as he was. The priest fiddled with the cross around his neck as his sight shifted to the person standing at the edge of the trees, staring out at the ruined towns and cities below.<p>

He leaned closer to his brother without taking his eyes off the man. "Selaphiel looks upset. I'm going to see if I can get him to cheer up."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up, Angelo," the other priest muttered loud enough for the other to hear. He was poking a stick into the fire to stir the coals about and check for any unburned wood under the ashes.

Angelo stood up, his long robe swishing around his legs as he did. He strolled his way over with a slight skip in his step and a wide smile on his face. Selaphiel had not seemed to notice that Angelo had been standing right beside him for three whole minutes now. He must've been in real deep thought. Angelo wasn't surprised in the least.

"Selaphiel?" Angelo waited for a response. All he got was a blink and a quiet hum after a long pause. "What's on your mind?"

The feathered appendages on his back twitched in recognition to the priest. He gave a calm glance to Angelo. Sighing, he finally answered with, "Quite a bit, kid. Everything that has been going on around us. However, we cannot interfere with what has been occurring. We already know that much."

"But what if one of them dies? Wouldn't that kill us, too?"

Selaphiel shook his head. "Not unless it was his or her dark persona that would strike the fatal blow. They are aware of this and know better than to perform the latter."

"I still don't think it's right!" Angelo retorted. "They're more powerful and sadistic than the originals. They're not afraid to hurt or kill or torture! They're not afraid to kill each other if it comes down to it. If they see one of them is weak, then they'll strike them down without even a moment of hesitation or a second thought. You know this!"

Silence spread through the camp. All eyes were on the two. Small branches swayed back and forth in the light breeze that passed through politely. It acted as if it had not wanted to disturb the atmosphere around them.

Without a response from the other, the priest sighed and looked down towards the valley below. He added, "For an angel, I was expecting you to understand this."

A low growl came from the camp letting everyone know it was his turn to speak. His large, scaly head lifted higher in the air as he said, "The little one is right. They are not strong enough to deal with what lies ahead of them, hrrr. I have had a vision. A handful of them have already been captured. It will only be a matter of time before the rest are and killed. Without us on their side, they will surely perish, as will we, hrrr." The last note in his sentence dragged on through the growl. It warmed the souls of each of them sitting there. Even the fire itself acted as if it was brightened by the breath. His golden scales shimmered in the dying light of the sunset, dazzling the leaves as it reflected off the leaves.

"Would it really hurt anyone if we aided them?" a man dressed in a general's uniform asked. His Spanish accent was heavy on his tongue. "If they die, will we even be able to defeat them?"

"We're given too little credit as is," the large, white bear said with a flick of his snout. The deity sniffed the air before snorting and laying his head against the ground again

"We have fought more than our fair share of battles and have won, no matter who we were up against." The woman was clad in armor, eyes focusing on cleaning and sharpening her sword. Not once did she look up as she spoke.

The general spoke again. "But even some of us have been defeated before."

"As have they. We should not rook upon our past mistakes and ret them overcome us in a time rike this. It is not our duty to sit and comprain about our faults. It is our duty to protect those that need it. Our duty to protect our main persons from harm."

Selaphiel looked upon the samurai. The words he spoke were true. Yet he still believed the mains shouldn't have to rely on them for assistance.

Seeming to read his mind, the dragon eyed Selaphiel with large brown orbs. His long whiskers slowly danced without any push from the wind, but swayed when it blew passed. "I do not believe they have asked for any means of assistance."

"I have heard their prayers. Their prayers-"

"Their prayers ask for strength and enlightenment through tough times. Prayers are different from pleas and begging. Do _not_ insult my wisdom, angel, hrrr. I know as well as you do."

Selaphiel fell silent. Angelo, still standing next to him, shifted on his feet. "Look," he finally said. "We ourselves have been through a lot. We have aided them when need be, not because they asked, but because they were not prepared."

"And that's where we need to come in." He brushed some dust off his camouflage uniform. "In a way, here, we're all right. We need to help them, but we also need to stay clear until the time is right. If we're too early, then it can be hazardous. We can fail if that happens."

"Ze SEAL is right," Erich stated. "Any of us zat have been in any form of military know never to leave a soldier behind. Ve are all in zis var togezer. Our mains are soldiers. Ve are on ze same side, zerefor unable to leave zem behind. Being a Luftwaffe myself, I was to follow zose orders as strict as any ozer."

A knight sitting close to him huffed. His crimson eyes shone with promise and fatigue. "Ze Templar Knights have aided many people in zere time of need. Ve have been zere to build forts, hide secrets, cover trails, escort ze men in danger, and fight battles ven zey could not. I am not villing to let zat honor fall just because of vat ve are allowed to or not to do. Zat is not my vay of living." A helm rested upon his shield of pure white save with a red cross to cover the entire length and width. The cloth over his armor was the same style.

"Then what do you all suppose we do, then?" His wings shook with agitation. His orders were firm and exact, yet were being shot down by the beliefs of the others.

Miyamoto quietly raised a hand in turn. "I berieve we should wait until they decrare war and choose to fight instead of run from their probrems."

The man who had stayed quiet through the entire conversation spoke. His soft expression was one of serenity and calm as he spoke with the same tone as such, "He is right. We cannot aid them if they continue to run. That would only cause us trouble. No, we should raise up and offer our assistance when they begin to fight against the others. Otherwise, our efforts will just be wasted in the process. They have us as allies, da, but without them fighting with us, we are just as vulnerable as they are."

Everyone looked at Peter with mixed expressions. The Tsar had a point they all were trying to make in their own words and views. Hearing it explained like this helped them understand what each was trying to say. Funny, the Russian never spoke much, but when he did, he always knew what to say to ensure all of them were left speechless or in deep thought afterward.

Peter, however, just smiled and then went back to watching the sunset where he stood, away from the rest of them.

Nanook let out an audible yawn. The bear stood up on his paws and turned towards the forest. "I will bring us our dinner."

Clement watched the bear stroll into the trees. "What a foolish conversation this was," he huffed with crossed arms. "Couldn't have just come to the decision in the first place."

"At least we have come to one, brother," the younger said, grasping his brother's hand tight in his.

"Would you let go of my hand?"

"It's cold, though."

"The fire will warm it up." Even with saying that, he made no effort to pull his hand away from his brother's warm one.

Selaphiel sighed and took an empty seat by the fire, finally joining the others. He placed a few more sticks upon the coals to keep the flame bright and burning. Confucius added a hot breath onto the flames, stirring them into spires that wove figures and images through the magic. They danced around for everyone to watch. Sometimes, the flamed figures would even act on how they would speak out, as if to construct a play. They laughed as the figures moved to the actions mimicked by their voices.

Nanook returned with a large buck in his maw. With a quick breath of fire, Confucius cooked the meat until a savory scent wavered off the deer's corpse. Portions were cut off and placed onto stripped-clean bark. Scavenged silverware were used to cut and eat the game meat. Continuing on with their play and conversations, the night quickly came about.

Crickets chirped among the scattered pine needles and bark and the like littered across the ground. Bats chirped with their sonic sounds as they flew by, catching the bugs that were attracted by the fire. The hoot of an owl disturbed the silence as they were getting ready to sleep the night away. The large dragon curled around them in a crescent shape. Clement and Angelo rested against his scaly body, arms wrapped around each other. Erich and his brother, Hughes, were stretched near the tail of the creature. Selaphiel, Phil, and Joan rested next to the Italian brothers. Francisco cuddled up next to Clement and Angelo. Peter laid against the fur of the deity, which the bear didn't mind in the least. Miyamoto laid next to the dragon's head, earning a similar sound to a purring thrum.

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><p>Heat lingered in the cell with no chance of letting up. The inmates were talking amongst themselves about various plans or ideas they might have. Any chance to escape this hellish place was not to be taken for granted. The wounds administered to their legs had started healing but only barely over the last few days.<p>

Italy just laid on his cot staring up at the ceiling while the others conversed. America had watched him for a few minutes before getting up and limping to him, leaning up against the wall. "Why so glum?" he asked.

Italy looked up at America's eyes. "All this is my fault. I could've stopped this from happening, but I didn't. I could've ended it before it all began."

America then kneeled beside the cot. "It's not your fault, Italy. What we had done didn't help your situation anyway. We probably made it worse. A lot worse... Don't be so down. It's not your fault. We're all at fault here."

"How exactly did this all start?" Sweden asked, looking up from their circle.

"Long story short, we had blamed Italy for something his persona did and that drove him over the edge. It split itself off and then went after all of us. Did it get you guys as well?"

"Not to m'knowledge."

Sealand clutched to Sweden's coat. "I'm scared, papa." Sweden set a firm and reassuring hand on the kid's hand, stroking his hair calmly.

"This isn't going to be easy for any of us," Austria pointed out. "Who knows what they could be planning at this very moment."

"We can't give up hope just yet," Spain said. "These things take time. Where there's a will, there's a way, sí?"

"I agree with Spain, guys," expressed America. "Things may seem bad now, but we can get over it. Just think of those damn aliens we had to get over. And without Italy's bravery and love, we would've never made it out alive, all of us. He cared about us too much to just leave without us. He endured and remembered everything from when he rewound time. Some of us might've cracked under that pressure and hysteria. But not him.

"Now we must be brave like that. This is just like before. We need to make sure everyone survives just like that again. No matter what happens to us or them. All of us are going to survive this. No man, woman, or child is going to be left behind in this war."

As America and the others kept talking, Italy still lay on the cot. A sly smirk came over his face as he rested a hand against his chest, right above his heart. A single tear drifted down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly and sat up. Reaching around his shirt, he untied a string around his neck and lifted a small, multicolored orb from under his shirt. "Spain, can I have a word with you?"

As Spain shifted his gaze to Italy, he stood up and steadily walked over to him. Italy stared at the orb, the colors slowly shifting inside as if a current was guiding it. England had been generous in making this for him, as his mind recalled.

* * *

><p><em> England sighed and placed the object in Italy's hand. "I know what you're planning. I must say I am not happy with it."<em>

_ Smiling at England with the most realistic fake smile he could manage, he knew he couldn't hide the truth. "I'm only doing what I must."_

_ "There are other options. This is not the only one."_

_ "No," Italy agreed, "it isn't. But it is the best I can think of. I don't know when it will happen or where, but when it does, know that I will be ready."_

_ England's eyes grew mournful. "Yes, but this time, you most likely won't-"_

_ "I know." Italy cut him off quick. "For the safety of others, I am willing to take that risk." Thus, Italy tied the orb around his neck and thanked England before returning with Germany and the others._

* * *

><p>"What is it, mi hermano?" inquired Spain as he took a seat next to the Italian. He noted how his eyes gave off almost a tearful look as he stared at the orb.<p>

Italy held out his hand to Spain, the orb in the palm of his hand. "Promise me, Spain. Promise me that if anything happens to me, that Germany gets this."

"But, Italy. I have already promised him that I would watch over you and assure that nothing bad befalls you."

"That's nice of him, but he should not have put that burden upon you. Please, Spain." He took the Spaniard's hands and wrapped the orb in them, closing the tan fingers around them. "We don't know what will happen here. I need to trust this in someone's hands. Promises from the outside cannot be kept while in here, but promises in here can be kept when the outside is reached."

The words Italy had just uttered took Spain by surprise. He had never heard Italy speak like this before. Spain nodded his promise. Italy surely was serious about this. In the back of his mind, he had his suspicions about why Italy had done this or made him promise this task. He wanted to ask what was he planning, but the cell opened and a figure stepped in.

The spine-chilling smirk plastered against his face regarded them all. He chuckled to himself. A whip was gripped taught in his hands. "Now," Cesare spoke in a menacing tone, "who shall be first?" His chuckle seemed to echo through the cell striking fear into several of them.

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><p>AN: All right, here's the list for the guys in the first bit of the chapter.<p>

North Italy- Angelo- Priest

South Italy- Clement- Priest

America- Phil- Navy Seal

Germany- Erich- Luftwaffe

Prussia- Hughes- Templar knight

Japan- Miyamoto- Samurai

China- Confucius- Chinese dragon

France- Joan of Arc- Soldier

England- Selaphiel- Angel

Spain- Francisco- War General

Russia- Peter- Tsar

Canada- Nanook- Inuit deity

The only reason there are so many military light personas is because i have a high respect for those in the military.


	18. Where Will You Go

I realized I've been neglecting my stories so I rushed a bit to finish this chapter. As for September, I just need to get past this chapter I'm trying to finish and I'll be better for updating that story.

I also noticed something. I started off with Swift Runner but somewhere along the way it changed to Swiftrunner. Eh, I kinda like it that way better anyhow.

Well, enjoy and hopefully I'll figure out when to put more excitement and suspense into the story.

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><p>Cesare chuckled as his eyes flashed across each individual inside the cell. Each of them eyed him with their own expressions: fear, hate, worry, panic, etc. Three others stood behind Cesare, one of them being Bernardo. He stared at his brother with worry and suspicion. Something about him was rather off. He'd have to confront him about it later. He was only there at the time to observe his brother at what he was doing.<p>

He took a step forward and let the whip fall to his side. His weight shifted to his right leg as he leaned against it, setting a firm hand upon his hip as he eyed a certain micro-nation. "How about the kid?" He tightened the whip around his hand and snapped it, making the kid flinch in fright. "He looks like he could use some toughening up."

A protective arm wrapped around Sealand, moving his body in front of the kid as he stood up. "Ye won' be harmin' 'im. Take me 'n his place."

Sealand held tight to the dark blue cloak. "Don't-" he began to say but was interrupted.

"We don't have all damn day." Bernardo crossed his arms and glared. "Hurry up already, will ya?"

Cesare turned to look over his shoulder. "You're so damn impatient. Just give me a moment." He turned back to look at the group, his vision panning over all of them. "Now, no one is going in place of anyone else. I choose and none of you argue or we'll give you worse treatment." His eyes stopped on the Swede. "The kid. Now. If you don't cooperate, we'll bring you both in."

"I'd rather suffer than let th'likes o' you harm a child."

Cesare was growing rather impatient at the man. His hand brushed his coat open and set on the hilt of his pistol. They were in a life or death situation and yet they were still willing to defend each other like this. He growled through clenched teeth. It was horribly stupid, pathetic, and a waste of one's life. "I won't order it again."

"An' I won' change m'mind."

The pistol was drawn and pointed. "If that's your choice then-"

The quick sound of feet shuffling followed by skin hitting against skin echoed through the air. A stinging heat flushed Cesare's face. His whole system went numb from shock. This was quickly replaced by anger when the blur in front of his spoke. "If you're taking anyone, it's going to be me."

Cesare glared at the near reflection in front of him. Lowering his pistol, he knew better than to shoot himself, so to speak. "How dare you," he hissed. A hand reached out and gripped tight to the shirt of his main counterpart. "No prisoner touches me and gets away with it." He tossed him to Adolf who clutched tight to his arm, hard enough to bruise it under the pressure. "Toss him in the room. I'll be there to meet him in a moment."

Cesare locked the door back up again. "Well, looks like your friend just saved you. For now anyway." He looped the string around his neck and tucked the key under his suit. As he walked away, he rubbed his face. Never had he expected that. Curiously, he wondered if Italy had felt that as well. Forcing the curiosity towards the back of his mind, he ultimately followed the other two slowly, watching the reaction of the country in question.

Stunned as the others, America was the first to speak. "Ok. Who else did not expect that one?"

Austria adjusted his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. "Surely not from him of all people."

Sweden took a seat again in one of the chairs. He merely nodded, focusing his attention on the disappearing figures on the outside. "It does put a hold t'our plan."

"Did we really have much of a plan?" America put a finger to his chin. "We did talk things out, but we never figured out a full plan, yet."

"Italy must be stalling for us and giving us time," Spain said aloud. " I hope he'll be all right. Who knows what he could be in for."

Terror. Pure, raw, alarming terror. It stung his veins worse than he was ever used to. His bare chest throbbed upon each lash that had been forcefully and painfully whipped on. Even through all other captures he had had in his time, he had never experienced anything this painful. Breathing panicked, eyes shut tight, tears dripped from them, every time he breathed, it stung worse and worse. Blood stained his chest and stomach. It was something he had never wanted, but it was better than anyone else having to suffer for his faults.

_CRACK_

Italy let out a cry as the whip met with his skin again, slicing his skin like paper. His legs buckled from underneath him, beginning to just give in. He wouldn't let it. No matter how hard it was to stand, he had to. He had to show some strength in this torment.

Another beat of the whip. Another cry of pain.

Cesare just chuckled. The maniac voice shuddered through Italy's ears and gave him a chill down his spine. The chill was a welcome feeling compared to the flaring welts. "You are truly pathetic. I can hardly believe that I was ever apart of you. It's a shame really. A damn shame. A disgrace!" He lifted his hand and struck the whip once again. This one harder than the rest, leaving a gash in its place. "You don't even have the guts to look at me... There we go. That wasn't so hard was it?"

A Italy stared into his eyes, he noticed they were darker than normal. They were almost... demonic. Blood lust swallowed up all other emotion that had shown in past experiences. Hungry with power he had grown to become. He yearned for it, craved it, lusted for it. A wide grin, ear-to-ear, plastered continuously on his face as he continued to scar Italy, even going so far to taste the blood that ran from the wounds.

A knock on the door startled Cesare out of his trance. It drifted open shortly after. "Brother, a word if you-a will."

"Damn it! can't you see I'm busy or are you that blind?"

A short growl emitted through Bernardo's closed throat. "A word. Now!"

Cesare sighed with heavy irritation. His brother had to be so god damn persistent when it came to discussing topics and whatnot. He glanced at Italy, promising that when he returned his punishment would be much more severe. "What do you want?" he asked when they exited the the room.

Bernardo sighed and faced Cesare, an unamused expression on his face. "A child, fratellino? You were-a going to torture a child?"

"He's not a child. He's a country. There is quite a difference."

"That doesn't fucking matter. He's still young and still maturing. Therefore, still a child." Without a response from his brother, just a harsh glare, he sighed and shook his head. "You're changing again. That's what led to your-a downfall last time. You're getting flushed with power. It's getting to your head-a, idiot."

Cesare scoffed almost laughed at those words. "I've learned from my mistakes. I can't fall this time. Not with the allies we have come to find. We're so much stronger than our original selves. And once they're dead and gone, our takeover will begin. Humans will bow down at our feet. They will learn to fear our names. They will learn to follow us as their leaders."

"What you're-a planning is a mass extinction, brother. Your plan is to enslave the human race. Whoever you-s see fit, you're going to throw into the camps. Soon enough, there won't be anyone in the streets. If there is a chance, a resistance will rise-a up to take you down. You're taking this all the wrong way, brother."

"No resistance will dare rise up under my rule."

"You're not listening, you damn-a imbecile! I'm trying to help you-"

Cesare took out his pistol and pointed it at Bernardo's head. "I don't need your help. I can do all of this just fine on my own."

Bernardo grasped his brother's hand and lowered the gun away from his face. "If you really think-a you can-"

"I _know_ I can do all this. I don't need my stupid brother treating me like some damn child!"

Suppressing the urge to yell further at his brother, Bernardo walked away. Opening the door, he paused to say, "Fine then, but don't you-a dare think about coming to me when you realize I'm right. You can't handle this on your own." He left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Rage boiled inside Cesare. He clenched his fists, shooting off the pistol still held in his hand. He let out a yell before storming off himself.

* * *

><p>The warm wind blew steady in the field. Flowers bloomed in all shapes and colors. Soft footsteps tread around them gently. A small hand reaching down and plucking the stems, adding them to the collection in her other hand. Swiftrunner lay close by watching the young girl as she made up her bouquet. His bones dug into the soft soil as he shifted around, clinging to the sticky flesh that still clung to them.<p>

A new scent came around. His smoky eyes rolled around to find the source. The wendigo tilted his head, wondering what the older brother was out and about for. Observing Bernardo's body language and movement, he must've gotten into another fight with the younger. He sighed heavily. It wasn't the first time they fought and it wouldn't be the last.

"Would my-a company bother you?" he asked the creature as he walked up.

A low hiss emitted from the skull face, giving Bernardo the impression it might've been a bad time. "Be my guessssst, friend." Hesitant for a moment, he sat crossed-legged in the grassy shade. They both watched Elizabeth go around picking flowers or talking to bugs. She seemed happy and content, almost like she didn't belong in this place. "Another fight I presssssume?"

"I'm getting-a damn tired of it, Swift. He thinks he runs the place-a when anyone of them could overrule him and take over."

"It could easssssily happen to him. Hisssss plansssss are getting too drassssstic asss they are."

"That's what I told-a the idiot. Doesn't listen, though."

"Then he will jussssst have to learn the hard way. Will you be there to help him when that time comesssss?"

"Doubt it. Bastard thinks-a he can take care of himself, then he obviously doesn't need my help."

"You ssssay that now. Down the road, your deccissssionssssss may be altered. You're angered now. Take time to cool off before making a final choiccce."

Bernardo sighed. Swiftrunner had a point, to his surprise. Looking at him, he noticed he had not taken his eyes off the girl the whole time he spoke. "You haven't been around the meetings as much-a as you used to."

"I ssssssee no point to be. They ssseem to want nothing to do with me nor acccept me. Elizabeth issss the only one who hassss ssshown any kindnesssss towardsss me."

Bernardo shrugged his shoulders. "The others have talked about you."

"I do not care what they think of me."

Elizabeth walked up to them with a large bouquet wrapped in a periwinkle silk ribbon. "Guten morgen , Bernardo."

"Buongiorno," he responded back. The girl took out a flower and handed it to him. In return, he smiled and gave his thanks.

"And one for you, Swift." She handed him one of the many yellow flowers that grew and bloomed in the field. Swiftrunner took the small stem between his long digits. He looked at her with smiling eyes. Her expression smiled back.

Bernardo looked between the two and wondered curiously. The expression in the wendigo's eyes never seemed to change. A hum breathed through his throat in thought.

"I'm going to bring these in. Maybe it'll brighten up the place for everyone. Maybe even get a smile from them."

Swiftrunner nodded slowly, hissing softly. "I will join you in a moment."

Still smiling, she started to walk back to the headquarters. She hummed a tune that was soft and joyous.

"Why didn't you-a go with her?" Bernardo gazed up at Swiftrunner who was now making his way to the sunlit area.

With a sigh, he stretched out and basked in the heat of the sun. The sensation warmed his skin and bones and filled them with relaxation. His eyes went black for the moment. "I ssssenssssed you had more to asssssk." Gazing at the flower, he twirled it between the pads of his fingers.

"More of a curious question than a serious one," he admitted, tilting his head towards the sky. When Swiftrunner said nothing, Bernardo took the hint to continue. "Elizabeth. What do you feel with her?"

The wendigo looked at him curiously as if he had no idea what Bernardo was getting at. "What iss it you mean?"

"You're always around her. Ever since-a she's split off, you've been following her and protecting her."

"Her brother wasssss ill and hasss passsssed on. I can ssssensssse the purity within her. Ssshe ssshould not be in thisss ssssituation."

"So in a way, you've-a taken up responsibility for her in his place. I would've never guessed."

Swiftrunner took a moment to speak.

The distant noises of bombs exploding and gunshots being fired did nothing to calm the air around them. Faint screams could be heard from civilians under the siege. Black smoke twirled and drafted up from the city as Cesare's men destroyed it. Bernardo felt a familiar twinge of excitement envisioning the scene.

"Even though my particular ssspecciessss hasss a bad reputation, I am ssstill apart of my original. I ssstill have part of that ssssoul within me." He let what he said sink in with Bernardo before continuing. "Even though we are our own perssssonsss and obtain out own persssonalitiesss, we will never be able to run away from the ssssoul we ssstill ssshare with our original. However, sssince we are the darker of the main form, we will never be able to ssssee the light; the kindnessss in out heartssss. We will alwayssss be driven towardsss the ssshadowssssss." His hiss continued to shiver the air before slowly evaporating into silence.

Thinking over what Bernardo had just heard, he understood how right Swiftrunner was. "To be honest, I didn't think you had a heart."

Swiftrunner paused for a second. His hand reached under one of the missing patches of flesh and pulled out the still-beating organ. Swiftrunner chuckled as Bernardo fell back in the grass, eyes wide and staring at the organ. The surprise quickly flushed through his system and observed the dark piece of meat in his hands. It was as large as the palm it sat in and very weathered. Patches of black and purple stained the flesh with dark blood leaking from the vessels. Swiftrunner's body heaved for a moment before quickly replacing the organ.

Taking a minute for that to sink in, he inquired one more question, "When-a you first split off, I remember you being very harsh and impatient. You even tried to eat me once. Now, you're-a more calm and relaxed. What happened?"

A new noise passed through the air from the creature. It calmed Bernardo more rather than instilling fear like a normal hiss would. Swiftrunner raised to his feet, and one single sentence was said from his unseen maw, "I could ask you the same." He strode off, leaving Bernardo to himself and his thoughts. Reaching out a hand, he sifted his fingers through the blades of grass. Betrayal stirred in his heart; stirred within his mind. His thoughts ran together until an idea came to him. Looking left, he watched Swiftrunner stalk through the field towards the warehouse. Jumping up, he sprinted after him. "Wait up, ugly!"

Yet somehow he managed to forget: Swiftrunner despises that word.


	19. Fire Head

Sorry for the lack of content within the last few... months? Weeks? Oh, whatever. Been stressed and finally found the motivation to get this chapter written for you guys. Uploading this before an interview (why do they interview you in the freakin a.m. anyway?), tired as hell.

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

I own nothing but the personas.

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><p>Nathan set back in his chair, legs stretched over the small table in front of him. Cards were continuously shuffled within his hand while his eyes flicked back and forth from the door of the cell to his hands from time to time. Whispers could be heard from the cell low enough for him not to hear. None of that irritated him. His flingers slid across his waist and rested on the handle of his pistol. He stifled his grunt to clear his throat, placing the gun on the table.<p>

Unannounced and off schedule, Cesare strolled in through the door. On his face was plastered an eerie grin. He leaned down at the table in front of Nathan placing his palms on the table. He jerked his head towards the door.

Nathan paused his shuffling and looked curious. He questioned, "Early shift change?"

"Mmmm, something like that, yes." Cesare answered in a cheery tone. Before Nathan could question, Cesare reached out and picked up the pistol lying on the table and examined it, looking over its design and make. A 9-inch Colt M1902, military model. Cesare figured it was assigned to him when Nathan was a general before becoming part of the Klan. "Leave this with me if you will." He fondled it gracefully in his fingers. "I don't want to get mine dirty."

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><p>Germany stood in a lone field that seemed to stretch for miles around. The wheat stalks arching to the beckoning of the gentle breeze. The air smelled pure and welcoming. The breeze whirled around the man, inviting him to step through the golden flowing grains.<p>

His heart was calm and at peace for the first time in, oh, days? Months? Years maybe? Ah, it didn't matter to him at the moment. The peace in his mind and heart were there. That was what he wanted to focus on and enjoy forever. Closing his eyes, Ludwig took a deep breath of the scented air. A slight familiarity lingered through his senses. As soon as it clicked in his mind, he took off in a sprint. His chest heaved the oxygen and a smile started to grow on his face.

His feet halted behind a man. So familiar he had almost forgotten how cheery the man used to be. Dressed in his blue suit with hair messy and auburn. Turning around, the Italian sported his gracious smile at Germany, his brown eyes being closed with joy, and his arms slightly out to Germany. "Hey, Germany!" he delightfully said. "I've been waiting for you. What took so long? It doesn't matter anyhow."

"Italy," was all Germany could muster. He walked up to him and embraced him. "Oh, Italy. You're safe." He pulled away with a concerned expression. "But how did you—"

Italy shushed him slowly and placed a soft fingertip to his lips. "That's all over and done with now. We can finally be happy. No worries, no broken promises, no unhappiness." Italy took Germany's hands in his, squeezing them lovingly. "We can be happy together. Just you and me, Germany."

A soft smile pulled on the corners of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled like this. Too long, he concluded. His thumb massaged Italy's cheek, the scar disappeared as if he brushed it off like dust. He looked so much more innocent without it. Someone like Italy shouldn't have the unfortunate honor of holding a scar, no matter the odds or stakes.

His smile quickly faded as he knew he himself had given Italy that scar. His eyes peered away from Italy's pristine face. Italy tilted his head to question. Germany looked back at him and took his hand and brought it up. His lips tenderly kissed to top of the hand. The tan skin felt warm under his dry lips and softer than down. Italy's cheeks darkened with the widening smile.

"I didn't know you could be so romantic, Germany," giggled Italy.

Germany chuckled at the words. He felt himself flutter on the inside hearing Italy's lighthearted laugh again. Since the whole ordeal started, he had barely heard Italy laugh at all. Germany missed it most of all, wishing he could just listen to that laugh for the rest of his time. Hugging Italy tightly to his chest, he buried his head into the Italian's shoulder. "My Italy."

Italy's arms slowly moved with him pulling away from the hug. Worried, Germany looked back up. No sooner than he did, a hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him so close that their lips almost touched. Germany's eyes widened at the eyes he stared into. The deep, dark, insane eyes that glared back up mocked him.

The world around grew blacker and darker. Thunder roared in the distance and a heavy wind whipped their clothes and the now dead stalks in the field, breaking them off with the force. "Your Italy?" He chuckled as his head tilted back in the amusement. His face suddenly grew darker as he pulled Germany closer where their foreheads touched. The skin was severely cold like he had been dead for years or frozen in some barren wasteland. The eyes were wide with madness and sent chills down Germany's spine, yet he couldn't look away. "He's mine!"

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><p>Eyelids snapped open to reveal sky blue eyes. Cold covered his body as the sweat melded with the temperature of the air. Grey, dull walls surrounded the German once his senses focused. Sitting up, he put a hand to his head as the ache started. As the realization sunk in of where he was and memories came back to him, he felt the pain start in his chest once again. He put a gloved hand to the floor where Italy would've been right next to him. A brief sigh escaped his chapped lips.<p>

Footsteps were heard to the right and he peered up to see his brother standing there. Panic riddled his face. "You're avake! C'mon, ve have to get out of here. Now!" Prussia grabbed Germany's hand and pulled him to his feet. A wave of dizziness overcame him for a moment as Prussia dragged him to the entrance of the building.

"Vhat is zis all about?"

Prussia hesitated to answer. He was focused on running and making sure his brother followed. After running for a few minutes, Prussia looked towards Germany and finally gave him his answer. "Zey're destroying ze city!"

Germany halted for a moment in disbelief. Through him still being half asleep, he hadn't picked up the noises that surrounded him. He heard them now. Bombs went off and rubble flew everywhere, crashing into other buildings and even hitting people that ran away from the devastation. Looking around for a brief moment, he saw piles of rubble everywhere. He had to double take as he almost missed it. A woman was trapped under some rubble. A few people were trying to dig her out, but weren't strong enough to move the concrete.

Germany hurried over to the group. "Move," he shouted to them above the noise. They looked up at him for a moment before getting out of the way.

Prussia looked next to him to see his brother missing. "Ludwig?" He peered around to notice Germany helping out a woman trapped under rubble. "Gottverdammt, bruder!" He rushed over and put his hands under the slab of concrete. Together, the two lifted the chunk high enough for the woman to get her leg out of.

"Thank you," one of the men said quickly before picking up his wife and running off.

"Now zat zat's over vith, let's get out of here," Germany said. He glanced back down the street and could see a tank approaching fast. "And fast."

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><p>Inside the small space of the tank, the man behind the window smirked. "Hey, Reinhard, come take a look at vhat I found."<p>

The other within looked over his brother's shoulder. His mouth curved with delight. "Good news and bad news. Vould you like to shoot first?"

"Vhy vait?" Adolf hauled himself out of the tank and looked at the infantry below. "You." He pointed out one of the more familiar men in the group.

"Yes, sir?"

Adolf held a hand out to him and pulled him up onto the tank. "Drive ze tank for a few minutes. And give me your weapon."

The man handed Adolf the AK-47 strapped around his shoulder along with the ammo pouch then disappeared within the bowels of the machine. Adolf rested the hilt on his shoulder and looked down the sight towards the two Germans.

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><p>Germany and Prussia felt bullets fly by them, some even grazing their skin. Prussia swore and took a chance to glance behind. The tank was coming in quickly. He could spy the man aiming at them, at him.<p>

He gripped Germany's sleeve and pulled him into an alleyway. He kept swearing to himself as he stopped to catch his breath. His eyes went over his brother's body hoping to not see any bullet wounds. "You're bleeding!"

Germany put a hand to his head, where Prussia's gaze was. He pulled his fingers back and rubbed the red liquid between his fingers and thumb. The slight pain started to throb with his heartbeat. "It's fine. It must've just grazed me."

Prussia sighed the worry away. "Ve have to keep going." Germany nodded and took off running again with Gilbert right beside him.

They passed through the streets and weaved through narrow alleys, hopping fences and obstacles to get out of the city while trying to lose their pursuers. The shouts and footsteps were behind them now. Fear filled Prussia and knotted up in his throat as most of the bullets flew past him. He gave a short shout as one dug into his shoulder. He staggered as he fought to catch his balance. Germany grabbed hold of his arm, not wanting to lose his brother in the destruction.

The ground under their feet shook as the street sunk in. Prussia managed to jump onto solid ground to avoid the collapse. He turned back and witnessed Germany falling back into the sinkhole. "Germany!" he called out and raced to his brother's aid. Hitting the ground hard on his chest, he clutched Germany's outstretched hand with his. The grip on Germany's hand was tight and strained. He wouldn't let go even if a bullet pierced his forehead.

Prussia reached his other hand and put extra hold on his brother's. He growled and grunted as he pulled, arching up his chest to bring Germany up as far as he could. "I ain't losing you now, bruder," he groaned as he pulled even harder. His forearms burned from the weight of Germany's muscular body.

Weight lifted off Prussia's arms. Opening his eyes, he let out the breath he realized he had been holding and helped Germany the rest of the way up as Germany began pulling himself up. "Danke," Germany whispered heavily. The adrenaline pumping through their veins made got them to still sprint even though their legs were weak and weary as it was. The trees were just feet away. Just a few more steps and they would be home free from their pursuers.

A gasping yell escaped the man's lips. His legs gave out, crashing to the stone below. He struggled to stand but his legs wouldn't respond in the least, too exhausted to continue running. Prussia called out to his brother, hoping his shout would reach. Germany whirled around and immediately rushed to Prussia. "My legs," gasped Prussia as Germany halted an arm over his shoulder.

Prussia's vision began to blur and darkness slowly enveloped his sight. Pain stung through his body though he was unsure where. He tried to focus on staying awake; the exhaustion being too much; the comfort of his brother giving him a sense of security. Even if he knew the world around him was falling apart. Caving, his eyes slipped shut.

Germany felt the heavy weight drag upon his shoulders. A growl formed in his throat with his teeth clenched. His eyes glazed over with fatigue, he carried on. Moving to the safety of the trees, he heard the impacts of bullets hitting and splitting through wood.

That didn't worry Germany now. They were safe and unharmed. That was all that mattered.

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><p>Adolf growled and returned the gun to its rightful owner. He flashed his fingers to his bleeding forehead. Lucky for him the bullet only grazed Germany instead of blowing his brains out. That would have been unfortunate in his case.<p>

Reinhard shoved the other guy aside as his head popped out from inside the tank. "Did you kill ze ozer me?" he asked hungry for an answer.

Adolf crossed his arms and put on a smirk. "Can't get out, can you?"

Reinhard's hungry smile turned into a scowl quicker than any bullet Adolf had witnessed be shot. "No! Now help me out of dis damned antique!"

Adolf chuckled darkly before grabbing his fellow Nazi and briskly heading back towards base.

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><p>Bernardo stalked through the building, passing the others on his way. His eyes never faltered neither did his usual hatred expression. Hands firmly by his side, pistol clenched firmly in his fist.<p>

"I wonder who pissed him off this time," he heard Nathan whisper to Ying

Ying responded with a grunt and a hoarse, "Same person as always." He was annoyed with the fact that everyone still bothered to speak to him while he was reading. Unless it was important, small chat could wait until he was finished with a paragraph. He swore the next person who disturbed him…

The firm strike of leather hitting flesh resounded off the walls. Bernardo chuckled under his breath at the poor soul who disturbed Ying. Although his thoughts were switched when he clearly heard the Russian's distinct "kol kol kol" and Ying apologizing and yelling as he was being dragged off. It seemed Vadim was the only one the emperor feared out of them all.

However, he ignored the yelling and the facts and focused on what he was putting himself towards. He turned into a hallway and removed a set of keys from his pocket. Sifting through them, he approached a worn door. Unfamiliar with the exact key that matched the lock, he tried several different ones before finding one that fit. The tumbles within the lock clicked as the key was turned. Lifting a brow, he looked at the key to memorize its shape and color. Bernardo rolled his eyes, not needing to do the latter as the word 'torture' was written on the key. "Cesare, you idiot," he muttered before stepping into the room.

The skinny figure chained to the wall open his bloodshot eyes. "R-Romano?" he asked almost desperately.

Bernardo's heart wanted to sink but gave the sickening feeling of joy that he actually thought Bernardo was his brother, his real brother. Swiftrunner's words from days ago came flooding back to him in a wave of disgust at his own thoughts.

"_Even though we are our own perssssonsss and obtain out own persssonalitiesss, we will never be able to run away from the ssssoul we ssstill ssshare with our original. However, sssince we are the darker of the main form, we will never be able to ssssee the light; the kindnessss in out heartssss. We will alwayssss be driven towardsss the ssshadowssssss."_

The light flicked on and the door was shut behind the mafia version of Romano. Italy's eyes slowly opened again as they adjusted to the blinding white light. Tears filled his eyes at the false hope he had given himself. His eyes flitted to the object held within Bernardo's hand. "You've come to kill me." The words hadn't formed themselves into a question. They were shifted to express the unfortunate fact that he was meeting his death. He almost felt the skeleton hand wrapping around his soul and beginning to pull.

Bernardo merely sighed and lifted his hand. Italy had closed his eyes before he could look down the barrel. His cheeks heated up with fear but cooled in lines as the tears overwhelmed his eyes. "You truly are pathetic," Bernardo annoying hissed. His elbow bent and the gun was tossed to the floor. He stepped towards Italy and fumbled with the keys once more.

Italy watched Bernardo stick a key in the shackles, releasing him from his binds. He fell to his knees, his arms going numb as blood flowed to them once more. Lifting his hands he bent his fingers and clenched his fists several times. The warmth of blood and oxygen flowed to his muscles. It wasn't too long until his legs and arms could feel once more. Standing up, he shot a confused face at Bernardo.

Bernardo dug into his pocket and took out a wristwatch. Handing it to Italy, he spoke, "Midnight. Wait until midnight and this door will be unlocked; your friends will be freed. Know that this is your only chance." Bernardo grabbed Italy by the collar and pulled him closer in warning. "Do not, by any means, blow this chance. If you do, I _will_ kill you. Understood?" Italy nodded. Looking into Bernardo's eyes was very similar to Cesare's: bleak and sinister. Yet, they stood out like an intense light in an endless night. There was some form of hope spotted in those damned eyes. They softened some. "Also, I'm…" He seemed to struggle with the words. "I'm sorry for what happened. I… wasn't able to stop him in time."

He stood up once more and went to the door. "Midnight," he said once more before returning to the hallway and locking the door behind him.

Italy glanced around. A glint off the metal barrel of the pistol caught his attention. Scooting over to the object, he picked it up cautiously. Italy wasn't used to handling any kind of firearm and had little, most likely none (he questioned that), experience. Struggling with the item for a few minutes, he was finally able to check how much ammo there actually was. Four out of six cartridges were set in place. Uncertain and questioning, he leaned against the wall staring at the door. Checking the watch, the hands read 6:34. Five and a half more hours, he thought to himself. He quickly eyed the revolver again before making up his mind. With courage firing in his heart, he swore he'd get them out safe and alive.

Something still bothered him yet. What had Bernardo meant before?

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><p>...<p>

Piss off, sun. I'm not done with yesterday yet.


	20. I Move On

_Here you all go. Next chapter. I'm trying to make these chapters longer so that I can make things more detailed and interesting. Also, I was hoping to end this around the late 20's or so. That's my hope anyway. Well, I hope you guys really enjoyed this chapter and its lengthiness._

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><p>"Germany? Oh thank god we've found you two."<p>

Germany raised his head to the owner of the voice. He had been resting against a tree with his unconscious brother. After walking for nearly half an hour, he had exhausted his limits. Thankful that they weren't followed into the forest, he took the chance to rest and let Prussia do the same. Although, when he had inspected his brother for other injuries, he wasn't excited for his findings.

"You're all safe?" A grunt came from him when he stood on his sore feet.

England glanced at Prussia, taking note to ask of his condition. "Yes. Where is Romano?"

Germany's face twisted into a scowl. "He vasn't zere vhen I avoke. Covard probably ran off vhen ze tanks rolled in."

Sighing, England agreed. They both knew how the Italian brothers could be when it comes to fight or flight. On a different note, England asked, "How is Prussia?"

It took a moment for Germany to answer. Worry had been plaguing him since he found the wound earlier. At least he wouldn't have to try to treat the wound on his own. A piercing pain tore through his heart like an arrow, the stone shattering within him only to hurt him more. "He needs medical help zat I cannot do on my own. Bring us back to ze group and I vill explain vat happened."

Hearing this made theories pop up in his head. Nevertheless, they both threw a pale arm around their shoulders and paced quickly to the camp. On the way, Germany had explained the previous situation right down to the smallest detail he could remember. To the woman they helped right down to every detail in his dream. He had debated on whether mentioning the dream at all, but he wouldn't hide it. He missed Italy. For the past week, he had expected Italy to be right there next to him when he woke up. To have those adorable hazel eyes stare into his to share a silent moment of happiness. He yearned to hear that stupid laugh of his. It was one of the most bothersome traits about Italy in his opinion, but even now he would give just about anything to hear his laugh, his voice, just to get a glance of the little Italian. How Germany longed for his arms to be around Italy's slender frame.

In his own mind, England related. Not having America around wasn't something one could get accustomed to in a short amount of time. The git was a royal pain in the ass on all levels, but he had as many pros as he did cons. Despite his idiocy and density, he was generous, helpful, always looked out for others, and always tried to get everyone to see the positives and stay that way when all seemed lost. Above all else, Alfred was still a little brother to him; he was still family.

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><p>China poked at the fire with a twig stirring the embers. Sparks wavered and rode the heat above the fire. The man glanced up when a foot came into his line of sight. "You should stop this ridiculous pacing, aru. You will wear yourself out."<p>

"Shut up," Romano retorted. He had not noticed it sooner but his legs were getting rather tired and sore from being on his feet so much, whether pacing, walking, or running. Silently admitting defeat, he rested himself by the fire. Romano pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin behind them and just stared into the small spire of flames. His mind raced with thoughts of Spain and Italy. His heart had hit rock bottom without them, but he would not allow himself to show this. China was right, he was wearing himself out.

Japan sensed the atmosphere around him. Reading a slight fluctuation, he looked over at France. "You are not upset?"

France shot a quick smile that faded just as quick. "I am, mon ami, but I always think that no matter what we have gone through, we have always come out of it alive, have we not? One way or another."

"We don't have-a the privileges that we did in-a every other situation," Romano observed.

A forgotten man cleared his throat quietly, hoping to gain the others' attention. "Actually—" He sighed to himself as, yet again, he was interrupted like he wasn't even there.

"Not in all situations. Sometimes it was just…" A cold, icy chill turned his spine to ice. His body slightly shivered with the intense stare that was being directed towards the Frenchman.

"I do hate how we are supposed to be equal yet you always leave out one," Russia spat in a childlike and kind voice. "Maybe you should get your heads out of your behinds and pay attention for once to the little voices." He waited for a few moments of silence for anyone who would object or say anything back. Satisfied, he looked toward Canada with a genuine smile. "What were you saying, Matty?"

He hugged Kumajiro close and nodded a grateful thanks to Russia. Shyly, he continued what he was saying, "Actually, what made us get through all the difficult times before wasn't the fact that we had help from magical sources or strange powers, but that we all stood together and aided each other from the moment it started to the time it ended. With our knowledge, skill, courage, and a sense of duty to protect one another, we all scaled whatever wall or mountain towered before us."

Stunning silence fluttered around the campfire. Everyone took their own time to take in what was just said. Canada noticed how Russia kept staring at him with that smile while everyone pondered, shifting nervously under the gaze.

"You sound-a like your dufous brother."

"He has a good point," Japan said.

China held up a hand. "I have to agree. It was not some force that got us through, it was our teamwork and compassion to live and survive."

France observed Canada as he sat there. A blush crossed his face as he felt accepted and noticed by the others. _That's my boy,_ France proudly thought.

Three figures slowly appeared from the brush. "Give us a hand, men," Britain said. Everyone was already a step ahead of him and had already stood up and rushed to do whatever was needed. They quickly cleared an area to lay Prussia down.

Gilbert clenched his teeth and tilted his head back in the grass. How he hated feeling like this. He was supposed to be the awesome Prussia! How had it ended up like this?

"I am grad to see you three are arive," Japan sighed and handed Prussia a canteen of water.

"Alive, yes, but not all well." England kneeled next to Prussia and pressed two fingers to his neck then to his forehead. "He's got a slight fever but seems all right."

"How vould you consider dis fine and dandy?" Prussia snapped. He rested on his elbows to take a drink. Feeling the cool water flow down his gullet calmed him.

Germany felt helpless as he watched England went to work. He held on to his brother's hand as England worked his magic to remove the bullet that dug into his spine. England gave his word to make it as painless as possible, but the tensing in the hand Germany held told him otherwise. Prussia cried out as the bullet was finally pulled out of his body entirely.

As they cleaned and dressed the wound, they all wondered how this would affect the entire group. Even with Prussia boasting how he would be all right and make this work, he wasn't even sure if he could trust his own pride.

Gathered around the fire and making the best of the meal at hand, they made it top priority to discuss the matter at hand. Figuring out how they would even find the hideout in the first place, they skipped that step for the time being and focused on what the plan was afterwards. So far it seemed to be a long and drawn-out process of watching and waiting before taking up any action.

Prussia sat away from the group taking time to himself to think over where his life would go from here. His legs were useless to him. Closing his eyes to bite back the tears he felt shameful for, he didn't notice the body that sat beside him against the tree.

A pleasant sigh came from the man next to him. "What a peaceful night, no?"

Prussia seized up when he recognized the voice. His crimson eyes glanced to see lavender orbs beaming back at him. They were waiting patiently for a response to be returned. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he managed to mutter, "Yes. It is."

Russia removed his gaze from the albino and looked at the stars. The clearing they were in gave them a magnificent view of the night sky from below. The waxing moon hung to the right of their view illuminating both the sky and ground. "Back home in Russia, when the sky is clear of clouds and storm, there are billions of these stars, more than what you see now."

"Zere used to be less zan zere are now. Now zat most city lights are out."

"What is your favorite thing about the night?"

Prussia tensed again as an arm wrapped around him. "Er, sleeping." He tried to move out of the uncomfortable grasp but Russia just pulled him in closer.

"That is nice. I like spending time with friends."

Prussia cocked his head. "You consider me a friend?"

Russia said nothing but just smiled down at his friend. He felt Gilbert relax in his arm, but he was still tense, still uncertain. Ivan would give him time to come around. He would help take care of the still awesome Prussia. At least, that's what he told himself. Actually doing it might earn him much dispute and disagreement, but he was determined to show that he could be a kind individual like the others.

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><p>Germany took the liberty of staying up for watch once the others were asleep. Even with him being exhausted, he knew he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep that night. He tended and stirred the embers for the fiftieth time within the last hour. His thoughts still echoed happier times. He sighed heavily. Noticing how raspy his throat was, he grabbed the canteen. He took a big gulp before pouring some in his cupped palm and splashing his eyes with it, massaging his eyes afterward. Masked by the water that dripped down his face, a few tears had escaped his weary eyes. He wasn't even aware of this.<p>

"You should get some sreep. I can take over watch from here." Japan took the spot next to his larger friend on the log. "You are exhausted, Germany-san."

"I am fine, Japan," he lied. "I vouldn't be to sleep even if I vanted to."

"Then I wirr stay up with you. You deserve the company."

Germany's expression softened as his eyes looked down at Japan. "Danke."

"I am your friend…" Japan cut his sentence off and stared ahead. Germany followed his gaze to see an orange glow in the trees. "There's a right."

Germany stood up and whipped out his pistol. Japan gripped the hilt of his katana, ready to pull it out if an enemy approached. "Come out, now," he said in a demanding tone.

Carefully, a young woman stepped out of the forest. A large lantern was clenched in her hand, and handful of her long, maroon dress in the other. Both the men were confused at the visitor. "Please excuse my intrusion, but I am glad that I managed to find you."

"Who are you and why are you here?" Japan asked. He looked over the girl and knew he had seen her somewhere before but was unsure where or who she was.

"I am Elisabeth." She curtsied before the two and gave a soft smile. "I have come to offer help in getting your friends back."

Germany held up his weapon to the girl with gritted teeth. "You're one of zem. Give me one reason right now vhy I should not shoot you."

Her smile grew wider, with a hint of cunning to it. "I would not want Swiftrunner to come after you. I can't offer proof that I will not betray you. All I can give is my word." She put a hand behind her back and brought a handgun into view. As if she were unafraid, she set it on the ground and backed away from it.

Germany dared not lower his weapon as he walked over to pick up the weapon. "Vhy do you vant to help us?"

"You must understand that even though we are still of them, we are different also. We want nothing to do with the others anymore. Since big brother died, I have no reason to be with them." After a brief pause, she added after seeing Germany's expression had not changed, "He is still alive along with the others. If you find it to trust me, you will see him in just a few hours. This I give you my word on."

"Germany, what do you think of—"

"Vake ze ozers. Ve vill discuss zis as a group."

* * *

><p>A quiet beeping woke the weary Italian. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his other hand ventured for the source of the noise. Finally grasping the thing in his hand, he brought it to his one open eye. He bolted up and stumbled for the door. He didn't even think to slow down when he grabbed the knob and threw open the door. The large storage door flew open and collided into something, well someone.<p>

"Ow! Watch it, fucking idiot!" Bernardo hissed quietly. He grabbed Italy by the wrist and pulled him out, snatching the watch from his hand, and locking the door again. He looked over Feliciano for a moment and shook his head. "I'm assuming you just woke up." Italy was only able to stutter his answer before Bernardo grabbed him again and pulled him down the hallway.

"Where are you taking me?" Italy asked through a fog of dreariness.

"Where do you think, idiota? Stop stalling and walk faster before someone sees us." Turning a corner towards the cellblock, he noticed Ying and Vadim at the small poker table just in front of the cell. Without looking back, he whispered, "Stay here."

Italy stayed behind the corner. Something bothered him as he waited. He constantly felt watched from the dark corners of the room, only lit by a single candle. A shiver ran down his spine as he took in deep breaths.

"Ah, Bernardo," Vadim spoke in a monotone voice. "What're you here for?"

Thinking of the spot closest to the door facing him, he answered quickly. "My dumbass brother wishes to speak with the two of you. He's in the kitchen last I saw of his stupid face."

"Are you coming with, ahru?" Ying asked while he stood up.

"No. Someone has to watch these inmates."

Ying nodded and turned away and headed towards the kitchen from the other entrance to the block with Vadim tailing him eerily.

"The kitchen?" a hiss wondered. "In the middle of the night?"

"He has been known to have his midnight snacks." He looked behind him only to find Italy's mouth covered by a large hand. Another irritated sigh followed by his head shaking. "Will you ever stop being such a damn coward? Grow some balls for once. You're so pathetic." He picked up the cell keys from the table and walked towards the door.

Swiftrunner looked eye-to-eye with Italy. "Do not sssscream."

Italy nodded quickly and the foul-smelling hand was removed from his mouth. Italy kept his word and didn't scream, but a whimper came out instead. He backed away swiftly from the wendigo.

Bernardo opened the door. His shirt collar was jerked and he was lifted above the ground and slammed into the wall. "What have y'done with his body?"

The counterpart grunted as Sweden pushed him harder into the wall. "You'll get it after you get out of here. Damn it! Let me go!"

"Get out of here?" Austria inquired and looked out of the doorway. "Italy, what are—"

"There's no time, stupid German. Follow Swiftrunner. He'll lead you out of here and back to your group." His eyes met with Sweden's furious ones again. "And you'll get what you want." Sweden dropped Bernardo and walked out without another word.

"Mi hermano!" Spain ran up to Italy and hugged him. Italy stiffened with the pain but quickly forgot it over seeing his friends again.

"I'll distract the others and meet you outside, Swift. Elisabeth should be at the rendezvous point any minute now."

Swiftrunner nodded, his breath hissing as it exhaled. The two parted ways and everyone cautiously followed the creature.

Italy, however, wavered to the back of the group. When no one noticed his absence, he started in the other direction.

* * *

><p>Bernardo took out a stick of dynamite and began setting it up. He had already set up several around the base in hidden areas. He connected the wires and stood up. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Planting bombs made him nervous as hell.<p>

A hand settled itself on his shoulder. Acting upon habits, he grabbed the hand and pinned the person by the back of their neck, pulling their arm behind their back. Once he recognized the person, he let them go. "What are you fucking doing here?" he shouted in a hushed tone.

"I want to help," Italy said. He rubbed his wrist as he looked down shamefully when Bernardo's sneer grew harsher. "I didn't want to run. I want to do something."

He groaned and pressed his palm against his face and slid it down. Thinking, he crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling while Italy nervously looked around and jumped at the slightest noise outside the room. "Fine. You want to help. Here's what you can do if you promise not to fuck it up."

* * *

><p>Chuckling, Bernardo placed his hands on the bare shoulders of Italy. "Now, just run around and try not to get yourself killed, k, kid?"<p>

"Why do I have to be naked for this?" Italy shuffled in his spot and shrugged the hands off his shoulders only to have them glide down his hips. He jumped at the cold touch of the leather gloves.

"Hmhm, because it'll give me a chance to get the other bombs set without disturbances. Plus you won't have the shuffling of clothes to give you away. Just think, you do this without dying, you get to see Germany again."

Despite the situation, Italy couldn't help but smile at the thought. "I'll do it!"

"That's the spirit!" Bernardo clapped Italy on the back, earning a wince as he hit a wound. "Now, give me ten minutes, lose the trailers, and meet me at the back."

Italy opened his mouth to say something else but was shoved through a door that closed behind him. Stomach twisting in knots, he was second guessing this whole ordeal.

"Cesare? Why are you naked? Wait…"

Italy looked up to see a man dressed in white robes carrying some sort of book. His feet froze in place for a second until a handgun glimmered into view. Triggering his cowardly flight instinct, he began running the other way, wailing at the top of his lungs. "Don't shoot me! Please don't shoot meeee!"

"Get back here, you half-witted goombah!" He shot a round at the Italian, zipping right passed his arm. Italy let out another cry and ran down a different corridor.

Down that corridor a door opened and a head popped out. "What's that blasted noise?" Cesare growled as he pulled on his coat.

Nathan stopped for a moment, breathing somewhat heavy. "That pasta-eater got out."

Cesare's expression turned to confusion, stunned at how this would've been possible. "I had that door locked and the keys with me at all times." He jammed his fist into his pocket, shuffling to pick out the keys. "See? They're right— Where are they?" Cesare pulled out all the items of his pocket—an old zippo lighter that surprisingly still worked, two extra magazines for his Beretta, a few euro coins, a half empty pack of Camels, and an old fountain pen he kept as a good luck charm—and found his keys were missing. His teeth gritted together with a _clack_, biting down hard enough to make his jaw sore in seconds. He already had a suspect picked in his mind. "Get the others to follow that brat. I need to find a certain brother of mine." Cesare was just about to disappear around a corner when he turned back and added, "And let everyone know that they have permission to kill any escapees on sight."

Nathan nodded and started back down the corridor, banging on another door and receiving a death glare from Julia as she was disturbed from her sleep.

After noticing he had lost his follower, Italy resorted to sneaking around the place rather than wasting his energy running. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and made his heart throb through his chest like he was firing an assault rifle. How long had it been already? It felt like ten minutes to his frightened mind, but when he peered up at a clock, he figured it had only been four. Cursing to himself in his native tongue, he took off in a jog to find the back entrance of the warehouse. Soft patting taps sounded as the bottoms of his feet greeted the cold concrete floor. He had begun to recall all the training Germany had given him on being stealthy. Unfortunately, he was never good at anything other than running away. This proved to be a problem when the familiar sound of boots echoed from the area he was headed to.

Thinking quickly, Italy dove behind several metal barrels of some sort of unknown substance. He covered his mouth and nose to silence his breathing.

"I know I saw him go this way." Nathan's voice was recognizable to Italy as it resembled America's only deeper.

What sounded like heeled boots came walking by the barrels. Italy pushed himself as close to them as he could possibly get. The cold, rusted metal pricked his back and made him shiver even more.

"We don't have time to scope around," a second male voice spoke up.

"Fine."

Italy let out the breath he was holding when the sound of a door shut. Taking a deep breath, Italy slowly got to his feet. No one proved to be in the room with him. He gave a relieved sigh, walking towards the door to his left. The cold nipped at his skin as it dried the sweat that had lightly coated his skin.

He knew he had to find the way out now. And fast.

Feliciano quickly burst through the door. He halted suddenly and stared at the figure leaning against the wall at the end. He cautiously approached, unsure of which man it was. The man was wearing the normal mafia attire he could see. Suddenly, his feet froze to the ground as the man peered up at him with such a frightening gaze.

A large smile spread across his face. "What irony," he said slowly. Cesare did not move from his place. He did not reach a hand for the pistol holstered at his belt.

Italy stood frozen, unable to run. Cesare, still keeping that glare and smile, kicked off the wall and stood straight. Arms crossed at his chest, he stood directly in front of his counterpart and began to walk forward. "Don't you think it's so funny? I can harm you all I want,"—he looked over Italy's bare chest at all the scars—"and I'll only get a temporary pain." Cesare rolled up his sleeves to show scars that had nearly healed from bringing the knife onto Italy's.

Snatching the pistol out, he tapped the end of the barrel against Italy's chest. The cold from the metal sent chills through Italy. Cesare could feel the rapid heartbeat that vibrated the object in his hands, amusing him greatly. "Yet, if I try to put a bullet to your heart or your head"—he tapped the barrel to Italy's forehead—"it'll kill me permanently. And somehow if someone else kills you, I'll still get away with my life."

He paused for a moment, staring into Italy's wide, unblinking eyes. All the noise that filled the air was Italy's frantic panting. Cutting the silence, Cesare continued, "How do you suppose that is? Do you ever ponder how we were able to split ourselves from you all? C'mon, you have to have some kind of guess."

Italy opened his mouth but just shook his head no. Words tried to form from his mouth, but they only ended up turning into stutters and whimpers.

Cesare had to wonder how he ever came from such a coward like Italy. "It pleases me that you're so afraid of your own self." He put his pistol away and nodded towards the door Italy just came from. "The back entrance is that way. Go to the door across the room and make the second right. Keep going and then you'll find it. Now get out of here before I decide to put a bullet in your back."

Italy gulped and found his feet again. Slowly, he backed up till his back was against the door. The door swung open and Italy barreled out of sight.

Cesare's smile didn't fade, it grew even wider.

* * *

><p>It felt like hours since Elisabeth had started guiding them through the forest. Only one other had tagged along while the rest stayed at the camp. Germany kept his suspicions, and hopes, high. Sweat beaded his brow as he grew more anxious to what was about to unfold.<p>

An equally unsettled hand set itself on Germany's shaking shoulder. Without meaning to, he glared at the person to his left. His expression softened as he realized who it was, though the glare didn't go unnoticed.

"Don't you glare at-a me, kraut-breath," shot Romano with hard eyes fixed on the man. "You're not the only one who's worried."

The German gave a single, slow nod. No, he wasn't the only one worried, but it felt like his world would was a mess. He would only calm once Italy was in his arms once again. He'd hold the little Italian tight and vowed to keep him safe and away from harm.

Romano, however, felt more anger boil and bubble through his system. His hand rested heavily on the handle of the handgun strapped to his waist. Swearing to shoot the first of those things he saw, he clenched tight. Romano had to keep reminding himself to keep his finger away from the trigger lest he shoot himself in the leg.

Elisabeth calmly switched the lantern between hands. Her confidence shadowed away her quaking nerves. These times of silence were awkward for her, where she preferred noise and conversation to the quiet of her thoughts. These gave way to her inner hate to rise and overpower her mind for a time. Violent images of fighting, blood, and gore often encircled her mind, waiting for the chance where she could actually get the taste of what it's like for the sharp edge of a blade to sink into the soft flesh of an enemy. She was never disturbed or ashamed by these particular fantasies.

In fact, they made her happy.

Elisabeth stopped suddenly and turned to face the two countries. In the background behind the trees, a large building took the space below the hill. The high voltage lights illuminated up to fifty feet. The tops of the hill that circled around the back were barely lit up, the light dissipating within the dense trees.

Taking out a pocket watch, Elisabeth glanced at the time before glancing back up. According to her watch, it was almost half past midnight. "They should be here soon," she said with a simple smile. Her eyes glowed an eerie hue of emerald over the lamp light. With the combined features of her face, she gave an expression mixed with worry and happiness.

Rapid noises began to reach their ears. Emotions swelled up in each of them as they looked down to the field below. The pounding footsteps against the dewy grass brought smiles on their faces, even if they were guided by a large creature.

Unable to control his own feet, Romano broke out into a sprint when they were halfway up the hill. When he saw Spain's face, he lost all control of his movements.

Likewise, the man was thrilled to see the stubborn Italian run at him, for him. "Lovi!" Spain held open his arms to the welcoming sight. His heart leapt and his stomach lurched as the pain flooded his abdomen. How he should've expected this from Romano. Just as fast as the pain came, it was quickly covered by radiant heat. The embrace squeezed tight around Antonio, though he didn't mind in the least. Wrapping his arms firmly around the younger, he whispered to him, "I'm so glad you're safe."

A heaving sob let itself out. "Don't you ever get kidnapped like that again, bastard!" His fingers dug themselves into the shirt they gripped.

Spain ran his fingers through Romano's messy hair. He could feel the dirt that still clung to the strands. In an effort to try and comfort the man, he softly said, "I'm here, Lovi. I'm not going to be leaving you again."

"You better keep to that, damn it," sobbed Romano. Antonio pulled his face away and lifted Romano's chin. They stared happily into the other's eyes. Spain wiped under Romano's eyes and brought him close into a welcoming kiss. Romano did nothing to push away and accepted Spain's lips.

"Vere's Italy?"

The voice spoke out without an answer. It suddenly hit the others that the perky, cheery Italian had not been running with them (or trailed them with dust).

Romano's face pulled away from Spain's to swivel and swirl around. His reddening eyes looked fiercely at the wendigo. "Where is he?!" he demanded.

Swiftrunner's hiss carried out as he opened his jaw slightly. "Musssst be with Bernardo."

"Bernardo…" Romano's voice trailed off. Subconsciously, he rubbed part of the scar on his chest. The swastika-shaped scar still pained him sometimes.

"Fratello!"

Romano's head shot towards the familiar cry. He anger vanished when he saw his little brother stumbling to them while trying to put on his pants at the same time. Bernardo ran right by his side.

Unexpectedly, the building behind them erupted in a mixture of smoke, rubble, and deafening noise. The sonic boom knocked the two against the hill, and Italy let out a cry as he felt like fire had engulfed him. As suddenly as it came, the intense pain ended leaving Italy breathless.

"Veneziano!" Italy felt himself being pulled up from the ground. He was held into a tight, caring embrace before another called his name.

Italy looked back to see Germany standing behind Romano. The light given off from the flames brightened his astounded face. The longing pain in his chest left him suddenly. "Germany," he whispered happily as tears began to sting his eyes. The blast had left him unbalanced as he stumbled towards Germany. Even with his world rocking back and forth, he found his way into Germany's arms. They both clung to each other like they had just met for the first time in years.

Light laughter came from Germany as he heard Italy say his name and scramble over many other words in both English and Italian that he wasn't able to make out. "Italy," he said calmly. The little Italian immediately cut off his sentence, looking up into Germany's eyes. Germany rubbed his gloved thumb under Italy's eyes. A moment of shared silence came between the two.

Germany had pulled Italy as close to him as he could, and Italy could feel the heated shirt press and massage against his chest, soothing the throbbing marks. No more words were shared between the two. There was no need to. In these short-lived moments that seemed like forever, they held the embrace, staring into each others' tender, overjoyed eyes. No, their mere touch had said everything they wanted to say to each other.

Swiftrunner gave out a growling purr as he held out his large hand to Bernardo. Realizing he was still on the ground, he took the kind gesture. He let out a quick gasp when Swiftrunner pulled him up above the ground and set him gently on his feet. "Thank you, Swift," he said with a shuddered voice. He brushed off his shock quickly and looked up. Romano's eyes were the first to meet his.

To his surprise, Romano held out a hand. Bernardo looked at the hand, to Romano, and back again. Reaching out, he took the hand in a firm hold.

A hand had disturbed the wendigo from his gaze. Looking behind him, he was met with the stern gaze of Sweden. Without a single word uttered, Swiftrunner nodded and led the man to the forest's edge.

Germany suddenly put his mouth to Italy's ear. He didn't care if anyone heard him; he just wanted Italy to be the first to know. "You are everyzing, Italy. Out of all zis zat is happening, you are ze light, ze goodness zat keeps everyzing togezer in me. You've alvays made my life bright and vorthvile ven zings have been bleak and lonely. My first ever friend, I love you, Italy."

The world could've ended right then and there; the moon could've fallen out of the sky that very moment. Neither would've cared, neither would've moved from this exact spot. Even with the flames steadily increasing behind them, they needed this moment to last. Germany pulled his face from Italy. He was about to retaliate until he caught the glimpse of Germany's blazing eyes. His lips twitched into a smile as Italy's face brightened.

Italy felt completely calm even with his heart beating furiously in his chest. His breath caught in his throat as Germany placed a hand on the back of Italy's neck. His stomach knotted, feeling like this was the first kiss they were going to share together. Though it wasn't, it was the most significant they could've shared together. Germany slowly leaned in and Italy followed hesitantly.

A cry suddenly cut through the world that was cut off as quickly as it was shed. The entire group was disturbed by the noise, turning their heads to where it had come from. Each person felt a tearing in their chest as they stared. Italy, Germany, and Romano stared with wide eyes. Italy finally understood Sweden's behavior earlier and why the escaped group seemed one person short.

Sweden held his hand over his mouth to muffle any other words that came out of his throat. He choked back the tears and swallowed the knot that had formed in his throat. "Th-thank you," he forced through a shuddering voice. He gently took the wrapped body from Swiftrunner and held it close. "Peter…"

Swiftrunner felt a pull inside his chest. The glowing orbs behind the skull disappeared briefly. They opened and hesitantly, he lifted his arms. After much contemplating with himself, he gave in and wrapped his long, lanky arms around Sweden in an awkward hold. His ear-scratching hiss morphed into a low, sorrowful cry.

Sweden felt a moment of dwarfing against the tall creature's chest. The flesh felt cold and dead even with the audible beating within. The stench of the rot ceased for a time as Sweden could no longer hold back the stinging tears.

"I…" Swiftrunner paused. He was unsure of what to say or what words from him would be any sort of comfort. "I am sssorry." Other thoughts came to his mind. 'If I were there…' 'Cesare will regret this…' 'His blood will spill for all that he's killed…' He mentally shook his head. No. All that he said was already enough.

A shot rang out, shattering the stillness that had settled around them, tearing through the air. Germany felt a jerk from the figure next to him and a glimpse of metal flying away. The connection had not been made until the spray glinted at his vision.

"Nein…"

It was so sudden; Italy didn't know what had hit him. What was Germany looking worried about? He stumbled to catch himself from falling forward at the force. His first thought was that someone had pushed him forward. He felt it hard to draw his breath. He wanted to ask what had happened.

He looked up at Germany who stared back with a terrified, unbelieving expression. All in a rush, Italy felt his whole body go numb and gravity pulling him towards the cold, hard earth. With a shout of his name, Germany caught him and lowered him to the ground. "Mein, Gott… Italy… Italy!"

The pain suddenly started simply in the left side of his chest before spreading like a wildfire throughout his entire abdomen. Italy gasped inaudibly and winced as Germany put pressure on the spot on his chest.

In the background, the others gathered around, trying to make sense of what had happened. Then they saw it. Blood started to pool on the grass, painting it dark.

"God damn, bastard!" America called out to someone long out of Italy's sight. A loud roar drowned out all other noise before Swiftrunner took off on all fours. Other shots were quickly fired.

Romano scrambled next to Italy. "Mio Dio. Stay awake, Fratellino!" he shouted.

Germany barked his words in a commanding tone. "Open your eyes. Italy. Listen to me! Gottverdammt! Someone help me stop the bleeding!"

Italy squinted as another wave of pain shot through him. He could hear all the voices going through his head. He could hear America's signature, "C'mon, dude! Stay with us!" Spain's frantic, "Mi hermano? Mi hermano!" before jumbling into a blur of Spanish. Even Austria saying, "Don't you dare give out on us now."

"Ve'll get you help, Italy. Just please keep your eyes open. Italy… you'll be all right. Please… open your eyes!"

Seconds later, Italy could stare up at Germany's fire-lit face. He could see his lips moving but no sound coming out. He tried to take in as much air as he could, but his lungs would not cooperate. He tried; he really did try to follow what Germany and the others said. It all hurt too much. He couldn't stop his eyes from closing. Fighting it was just taking more out of him.

"Nein… NEIN!"

A slow realization washed over him. He tried to speak, to apologize for being unable to fight anymore. Nothing would come out. Only a hazy gasp. He felt Germany's hand caress his cheek, cupping it within his gloved hand. His heart could feel them calling out to him, but his ears stopped working.

The skipping and wavering of the light from the flames dancing off his eyelids started fading. Never had he thought he'd die helping anyone. He would've laughed if he had his breath. He always pictured himself dying as a coward, not a hero. Even though he didn't feel like one.

A saddening tug pulled at him inside his chest. He pictured it in his head, his lips being gently touched by Germany's. Feeling the warmth rise through him at the thought, the pain vanished, and he felt himself smile with what little strength he had. Though they had shared no kiss, the last words he had spoken to Germany meant the world.

He still felt Germany's hold on him. The numb pressure on his chest as he tried to help him. The never-lingering scent that still tickled his nose. No, he didn't want to be anywhere in the world but here, wrapped in his lover's arms. He felt the need to reach out somehow, to feel Germany with his touch once more. The task seemed impossible, though he felt his hand twitch. Italy suddenly felt an unsteady hand take his and pressed it against someone's wet cheek. Italy knew Germany's touch anywhere and didn't realize how cold he was until he felt Germany's warmth.

And in the end, he was helpless to the darkness tugging behind him, pulling him away from everything and everyone he ever cared about.

The last thought that picked through his mind was their first meeting, their alliance. Germany's unsure expression towards Italy's bright and cheerful suggestion. Standing right beside him, arms around their shoulders staring out at the distance.

_Best friends till the end._

* * *

><p>America and Austria had to hold Germany back, prying his clenched arms off Italy. It had been half an hour since. Tears refused to stop from each of their eyes. Spain had his arms wrapped tight around Romano's, shirt drenched with the Italian's and his own tears.<p>

The fire that had spread throughout the building had slowly died down, unable to catch another source to burn. All it was now was a giant glowing pit of coals and embers that still managed to light up the immediate area through the dark of the night.

"You're making this harder for all of us," America choked out. "Just let… let him…"

Germany finally stopped struggling and was released, falling to his knees. His eyes were swollen and red. Whenever he tried to look up at Italy, his heart ached and head spun all over again. A different emotion broke through, making hot tears sting his cheeks again. His blood boiled and he stood. His feet moved themselves, drawing him over to Swiftrunner, who had a tight grasp on the man, a sniper rifle lay in the grass next to them. Germany stared into the humored eyes of the Russian.

Vadim smirked.

A sharp pain twisted through Germany's knuckles as they greeted the hard cheekbone. Swiftrunner growled and constricted his fingers harder as Vadim tried to fight back. Anger still flared within Germany as he continued to strike Vadim several more times before Bernardo pulled him away.

His Beretta was held out to Germany. "He's going to be executed either way."

Germany paused his thoughts, ceasing to think as he took the pistol. Turning back to Vadim, he aimed the barrel right between his eyes. His finger held tight on the trigger but refused to pull it back. The image of Italy flashed through his mind. How he saw the bullet pass through his chest, how he saw his eyes close… how he felt the life leave him.

"Do it." Swiftrunner's voice pierced his thoughts and brought him back to reality. The order struck him through the chest with a sickening sense.

Germany stepped back and lowered the gun. He firmly swallowed the lump in his throat and returned the gun to Bernardo. "No," he said coldly. Germany turned swiftly on his heels and walked over to Italy. Stopping right before the body, he glanced at Sweden, who still held Sealand in his grasp. Mutual understanding and feelings passed between them.

Germany knelt down to pick up the once full-of-life-and-cheer body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone kneel next to him. "Germany, there is something I need to give you." Germany looked up at the Spaniard. Spain dug into his pockets before pulling out an orb tied to a string. "Italy had told me that if anything happened to him, that you get this."

Germany stared at the stone for a moment before taking it in his palm. A look of confusion passed over his face. The orb felt oddly warm through his glove. An odd familiarity came from the little stone. Normally, he would've stuffed it in his pocket and carried out with his task, but he took the time to tie it around his neck, letting it fall just below his collarbone.

With a sigh, Germany proceeded to pick up Italy and carry him.

Swiftrunner, Elisabeth, and Bernardo had gone a different way with Sweden. They planned on guiding him back to the other countries where he and Sweden had been captured.

As they all headed back to the camp, no one said a word. A peaceful warmth jumped from the orb suddenly. _Ve! Germany, I'm with you always._

Germany stopped. The odd feeling left as quickly as it had come. Germany ignored the question tossed towards him and just continued on.

* * *

><p><em>*hands out tissues, cookies, and pillows*<em>

_In case any of you need any of these items._


	21. Deadly Deception

Not much to say here but enjoy :D

* * *

><p>A low hiss carried through the outskirts of a town. He stretched out his neck to adjust to the girl who had her arms wrapped around. Sweden walked in the middle of the wendigo and Bernardo. Not many words were shared between them as they walked. The afternoon sun was high in the sky by this time now warming each of them from the outside in.<p>

Although, something was silently stirring. Deep within, Swiftrunner could feel his hunger tormenting him, tearing at the very fibers of his mind. He tried ever so hard to not even glance at the body in Sweden's hands. The wavering smell of death kept teasing his nostrils, begging him, testing him. There had been plenty of times where he felt the gnawing urge to steal away the kid's body and devour it.

He had remained strong thus far, but he wasn't sure how long this strength would last. This brought the rare feeling of fear creeping through his bones.

This continued on and on into the next few days they traveled up to the northern part of Europe. Over the course, the hunger grew stronger, louder within his mind. Several times he would steal himself away to hunt for fresh flesh and gain control of himself before catching up with the trio once again. However, the hunting could only do so much. After all, no matter the amount ingested, the hunger never ceased. It only grew.

Swiftrunner currently focused on the fire that danced and flittered. He kept to his mind trying hard not to think about his unceasing hunger. He swallowed dryly. He felt himself slowly growing in control of this maddening itch in his gut. He felt himself finally begin to relax slightly.

"Hey, I've gotten food from the nearby town," Bernardo said, pacing back to the camp just outside said town. "My brother hasn't gotten this far yet. It's-a still somewhat civilized here. Somewhat." He accounted his trip to the shop meeting up with some assholes. He passed out the rations to everyone. Bread, cheese, meat.

Oh, God, Swiftrunner could smell how tantalizing that chunk of meat was. His mouth began to water as his orbs watched Bernardo slowly, almost like he was stalking his prey. Swiftrunner let out a low growl as Bernardo came towards him.

"You all right, Swift?" He had noticed the wendigo acting rather odd lately. He hadn't said a word, not even to Elisabeth. A nervous twinge grew inside of him as Swiftrunner held his gaze, unmoving and ravenous. He cleared his throat and held out the deli wrapped chunk of lamb meat. "I got this for you. Don't know if you'll—AH!"

As soon as Swiftrunner smelt the lamb under the paper, he rushed forward and opened his maw wide, giving them a chance to glimpse the lower part of his jaw from under the skull. Snapping his jaws around the meat, his teeth also sunk into living flesh.

He tasted the sweet, metallic liquid on his tongue but forced himself not to bite any farther.

Bernardo was stunned, frozen at the sudden flash of movement. Pain pulsated at his arm. The hand between the two jaws twitched nervously. His skin started crawling as his felt the slimy, half-rotten tongue slide across, no, taste his flesh, his blood. Slowly, the sense in his hand came back, and his fingers let go of the lamb.

Forcing himself to let go, Swiftrunner hesitantly opened his jaw wide enough for Bernardo to retrieve his hand away. No sooner after that, he bolted away from the scene. Bernardo reacted immediately and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.

"Let m'help." Sweden hurried over and tied the kerchief around the wound tight. "Jag är ledsen," he muttered as Bernardo flinched.

"I hope this-a won't get infected. Who knows what kind of bacteria are in those teeth of his." Blood still continued to flow out of the bite. The pain made him think that cutting his own hand off would've hurt less than the pain that spread through his entire arm like poison.

"We should get it clean b'fore that."

"Damn right we should. Elisa…beth…" The girl was not in sight. Bernardo cursed. "She must've gone after him."

"She will b'all right," Sweden figured. He was hesitant to leave Sealand's body out in the open like this. Yet he knew he had no other choice. Grabbing Bernardo's unharmed wrist, he took long, rushed strides to the town. Bernardo had to jog just to keep up with the taller man.

* * *

><p>Swiftrunner's teeth tore into the meat and devoured the chunk. His ravenous hunger eased gently as the last bit went down his gullet. Head hanging low, he set a hand to the skull. His long claws dug into the bone as the hunger still crept on. A surge of hopelessness washed over him. How long would he have to continue living with this never-ending hunger? After all that he could feed himself, till his stomach pained and threatened to split open, his hunger still refused to settle.<p>

It was enough to bring him to tears.

How much longer would he have to suffer this curse?

Swiftrunner gasped as a branch snapped nearby him. He was about to look but stopped himself and quickly turned his back towards the person. "Go away," he commanded. Despite the threat, the person still moved towards him. His patient running thin, he shouted, "Get out of here you inssssolent…" He cut himself off as he gazed down at the young lady before him. He breathed out the last part of his sentence, "…brat…" before turning the rest of his body to face her. Shamefully, he growled in an apologetic manner.

Elisabeth stood there before the towering beast. She could hear his breath raspier and shakier than she had ever heard it before. In the fading light of the trees, their entire forms were lit up an orange and red hue. A gently gust of wind sung through the leaves. It twisted and wound its way through the grove and around them. The single curling, blonde strand bobbed gracefully as the wind tried to whisk it away. This amused Elisabeth, making her giggle.

Without hesitation, Elisabeth lifted up her hand to hold out towards Swiftrunner. She could feel his hot breath on the palm of her hand as it exhaled through the holes in the skull. He leant down and pressed the snout of the skull into her hand. Calmly, her thumb edged itself under. This caused Swiftrunner to jerk his head back. He let out a threatening hiss, "Leave it."

His action confused the girl. She didn't understand the importance of the mask. "Why is it so important?"

Swiftrunner was hesitant at first, unsure of whether or not to say. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure how she could understand, or how he could explain it. Still, he tried to. "The sssskull. It isss…" He silenced, collecting his thoughts together for another few moments. "Where asss my heart ssstill beatsss and keepsss me alive and the blood flowing through my veinssss, the sssskull holdsss the curssse together. It isss what keepssss me truly thriving. If it were to ssshatter… I am unsssure of how thissss proccessss worksss myssssself. I can live without my heart asss long asssss the ssskull remainssss in one pieccce."

"I want to see what's underneath that mask," she plainly said. Elisabeth adorned her kind words with a kind smile.

Swiftrunner couldn't help but chuckle at her words. "What liesss beneath isss unimportant."

"It's important to me. All I see is your harsh-set skull and those glowing eyes behind dark sockets. I don't see the real you. I just see the curse that you carry. Please, let me see the real you, behind the mask."

Swiftrunner had never been stunned by words before. He was more used to his words doing the same to others. Perhaps this girl meant more to him that he thought before. Steadily, he held out his head to Elisabeth with a calm purr. His heart thumped forcefully within his chest.

Once again, Elisabeth put her fingers underneath the skull. Gradually, she pulled at the weight of the skull. The piece wouldn't budge as if it were stuck. Elisabeth showed disappointment but felt her stomach flutter as Swiftrunner rested his large hands over hers. Holding the skull in place, he shifted his head around. He had had the thing on for so many hundreds of years that he wasn't sure if it would come off.

Suddenly, it slid out of its place.

A gasp escaped Elisabeth as she peered at his face. Swiftrunner set the skull aside but just stared into Elisabeth's face. He dare not say anything for fear of losing his voice to his nerves. Instead, a low growl came out, the chords in his throat shuddering visibly under the skin.

Most of Swiftrunner's real skull was visible, only having skin and a small layer of brown fuzz covering a few areas, mostly on the bottom half of his head. His upper jaw, snout, and the top of his head were all bare bone that shown. Yet, there was still a small patch of skin around his eyes, giving him the chance to open and close his eyes but not really needing to. Two holes behind the eyes showed where ears once where, moving and shifting to the sounds around. The top row of teeth stuck out without having any lips or skin to cover them. A small patch of blonde hair still grew from where it could, mostly on the back of the neck. Aside from that curl that was shared with his other.

Even so, his eyes stuck out most out of all his features. They glowed lightly in the evening hush, a beautiful, radiant violet hue. The irises themselves were a pristine lavender streaked with darker violets and lined ever so slightly with a bluish shade. They were, yet, so dry. Understanding his unnecessary blinking. Did it hurt when he blinked? She wondered.

As those large eyes stared at her, she managed to get herself lost within their beauty.

Elisabeth gently glided her fingers across the rough, grayish-tan bone that showed. She could feel how dry his exterior was, never really noticing it before. Swiftrunner felt the kindness emitting from his fingertips as they embraced his face. He blinked his eyes once, the eyelids seeming to quiver over the orbs.

"You are beautiful to me."

Swiftrunner's breath shuddered at the words. An odd feeling pulsed through him. Never had he been called this word or anything similar, he was unsure of how to respond. He looked away to collect the thoughts buzzing around in his skull. He cleared his throat and simply said, "Thank you."

He looked up at the sky. Dusk had fallen and the stars were already appearing in the sky. "We sssshould held back." Picking up the skull, he set it over his face once more, retaining the look of a fearsome creature once more. He adjusted it patiently to make it comfortable once more.

She nodded, still holding that wide smile. That beautiful smile. Only Elisabeth would know the true being within. Carefully, he picked her up and set the girl upon his shoulder. Thus he began the long stride back to the camp. Through these fleeting moments he got to spend with Elisabeth, he felt calm and at peace.

Never once did his horrendous hunger bother him when she was with him to occupy his mind.

* * *

><p>Bernardo swore several more times as he readjusted the bandage that was wrapped around his wrist. The bites still throbbed dully, unable to be stitched shut. Without the proper medical tools, he could've either waited for them to heal on their own and stop bleeding or they could cauterize the bites.<p>

So Sweden took a knife, stuck it into the fire to heat up, and then proceeded to close the wounds up. Five times this had to be done. It was one of the most painful experiences of Bernardo's life. Luckily, they were able to apply some soothing gel a store had in town. Run down and ghetto as all fuck, as Bernardo put it, but a store nonetheless.

"Nah, you stay away from-a me," he said harshly as the wendigo and girl rejoined them.

Swiftrunner narrowed his gaze. "I cannot help that my hunger isss overpowering. I ssstill apologize for harming you."

"Bah." Swiftrunner knew the man well enough. Even though he seemed harsh and threatening, he still accepted the apology. Or else he'd have bullets riddling his skeleton.

"How far until we get to where you are heading, Mr. Sweden?" Elisabeth wondered.

"Not far now." He looked to the body lying next to him. "Not long now…"

* * *

><p>A soft hand rested itself on a blonde man's back. The younger man glanced at the older with brown irises. He acknowledged and accepted the comfort he was given, surely needing it. "Don't you worry, Finny," the man assured with a wide smile. The smiled itself was forced, but he knew someone had to be the one to pool them together when they lost hope. "Sweden will be back. Come on, it's Sweden we are talking about here!"<p>

"He does have good point," Iceland piped up. He pulled his legs closer to his chest in the cold air. Light snow littered the ground around the house as it had slowly drained to the end of February. His puffin was nestled comfortably under his arms.

Norway nodded in agreement but said nothing.

"I guess you are right," Finland admitted. A stir from under his jacket forced him to adjust his posture. His eyes stared off into the southern distance. His heart ached ever since Sweden and Sealand were captured. Deep within he knew they would return, but he couldn't shoo away the lingering feeling that something was wrong. He yearned to be held by Sweden's strong arms again. For him to hug Sealand and keep him close and protected. He smiled lightly at the thought. He wanted nothing more than for his little family to be together again.

As the hours passed, they stayed under the roof they had called home for the time being. Furniture still adorned the small home and it was big enough to accommodate for everyone. They were all thankful that the house had a fireplace. Germany was really cold this time of year.

Iceland lifted his head to the window once again. They hadn't stopped looking, waiting, and watching since. Squinting, he spotted a large dot in the distance. His eyes went wide. "Sweden." He stood up nearly knocking over his chair in the process. "It's Sweden!"

Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing and rushed to the window.

"Is it really him?"

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know, ok?"

"What do we wait for? Let's greet him!"

They each couldn't get out the door fast enough. Finland was the fastest of them all, racing with his arms outstretched wide. The smile on his face was wider than ever. His heart skipped with joy into his throat. Sure enough, Sweden's figure came into view, adorned by that dark blue overcoat over his. It was Sweden with someone else walking next to him.

He stopped, his breath catching hard in his throat. Sealand, he knew, wasn't that tall. He had seen it, and his eyes grew wide. "It… Can't be…"

"Hey, Finland, why'd you stop?" Denmark asked as the rest of them caught up to him. "Got yer feet frozen to the…"

Five feet from the group, Sweden stopped before them, eyes glistening with tears that refused to fall. "Tino… I… I couldn'…"

Finland's eyes overflowed with tears in an instant. He clenched a hand over his face. He refused to believe what he had seen. "No… No! Please tell me this isn't true!"

Bernardo walked over to the other three. "Perhaps we should give them their time," he whispered.

Denmark whispered back, "Yeah. Then you can tell us who you are."

Bernardo nodded and left the two to their mourning. He figured he'd get Elisabeth and Swiftrunner later. He didn't want to frighten them with his intimidating appearance.

Finland had slowly stepped closer. He lifted a shaky hand to remove the wrapping around the head little by little. Each inch he moved, he was praying he would wake up from this nightmare. Sealand's face was in full view. A sob escaped his throat and his knees went weak. He clung onto Sweden's coat and started crying into it.

The snow drifted down from the cloudy sky. It began to blanket the area around them. Why did it have to be Sealand? He was just a kid.

* * *

><p>"They been out there a while," Norway muttered, gazing out the window for a quick moment.<p>

"You really can't blame them," said Iceland, his arm crossed.

"No," the puffin resting atop his head started, "but ya can blame that bozo over there." He pointed a wing at Bernardo.

He growled at the rudeness of the feather-brain. "Shut your beak, you oversized pigeon."

This irked the bird, getting him to shout threateningly. "What did you call me?"

"Shut up, both o' you," Denmark asserted. He leant back in his chair again, crossing a leg over the other. "Now, what's a wendigo?"

"Idiot," Norway shot at him. "Ignore him. How can we trust you after what you just said?"

Even with the persistence, Bernardo answered anyway. "A wendigo is thought of variously as a malevolent cannibalistic spirit that-a could possess humans or a monster that humans could physically transform into. Anyone who has indulged in the act of cannibalism is in particular risk of this psychosis. It is a creature of Canadian and Native American legend.

"As for-a trusting me, I want nothing more than to watch my damn brother and his allies fall in flames. The three of us are already considered traitors. There would-a be no use returning to them unless we want to be killed." Bernardo held the rifle in front of him, the butt of the gun sitting against the hardwood floor. "I can offer this as a gift. It's Russian, and I have-a no use for it."

Denmark took the rifle from Bernardo and looked it over. He took out the magazine and it held six distinct bullets. "It won't be easy, but I can get more ammunition for it." He held it to his shoulder and peered through the scope. "An SVD. It looks real old."

"Should be," Bernardo plainly stated. "It is in well condition. We all see it to take care of our weapons."

A clearing of the throat caught their attentions. Finland had his head poked into the house. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. "Um… Would you all like to say a few words?"

The eight of them gathered around the little grave that had been dug out in the snow-covered field. Sealand lay peacefully in the earth as his closed eyes looked up at the sky.

"Kid," Denmark said first. He sighed and down at his hands for a moment before back at Sealand. "You were… something else. You were pain in ass, but you were good kid."

Norway took over next. His usual expressionless face hinted sorrow as he kept his eyes on the kid. "You were a real nice nation to have been added to our family. You will be missed."

"I hated you telling me what to do," Iceland spoke slowly, forming his words carefully. His voice quivered and he couldn't stop a few tears from falling. "I even hated more how you thought you could be the boss over me. Even so, you were like a brother to me. I won't ever forget you."

Bernardo eyed the corpse sorrowfully. He nor Elisabeth said a single word. All they did was watch as the others started to fill the hole with cold dirt.

Swiftrunner cooed in his fierce tone as he began to speak, "We will assssure that your death wasss not in vain."

It took several moments for everyone to find their voices again through the sniffling, sobs, and tears. Finland was still crying, clinging to Sweden as tight as he could to where his knuckles started turning white. Sweden was silently mourning the loss as the hot tears burning his eyes rolled down his cheeks. None of them ever thought they'd lose the kid. It was so unfair how nature and evil had taken its course to steal this innocent soul away.

Out of irritating habit, Bernardo tugged at the wrap around his wrist to adjust it more comfortably. A heavy sigh escaped his lips before he asked, "What do you want to do?"

"Got any plans of your own?" Iceland asked, brushing a lock of snow white hair out of his face.

Bernardo shrugged, stuffing his freezing hands into his thin pockets. He really needed to find a warmer pair of gloves for this time of year. "As I said before, my only plans include doing our part to get-a them to fall. I will not rest until he and the others are dead."

The five Nordics exchanged glances between each other. Silently, they all decided on what they were going to do. "We will aid you 'n doin' this," said Sweden.

"That is good to hear." Bernardo smiled. He withdrew his hands from his packets and began to sign as he spoke. "Ok, here are the ideas I have for a resistance…"

* * *

><p>Many miles away, Reinhard went for a walk to stretch his legs. The strong smell of smoke filled the air as it came up from the chimneys of the crematory. Tools struck the hard earth around him as some of the prisoners dug graves while others dug just to keep busy and tire them.<p>

He smiled to himself at the progress they had made.

"Reinhard!"

Confused, he turned on his heels and quickly made an audible noise of shock at what he saw. Third-degree burns covered any exposed skin that Cesare possessed. These burns combined with the anger on Cesare's face gave off a frightening look. "Holy shit! Vat-"

With a gloved hand, Cesare grabbed the collar of Reinhard's uniform and pulled him down to his height. "Find my traitorous brother and _kill_ him! No. Bring him to me. I'll deal with him myself. Take however many men you desire, just get him to me!"

Cesare stormed off without another word. Puzzled, Reinhard went to look for someone who knew what was going on.

"Bernardo blew up the entire base," Edward explained. Each of them around Reinhard was covered in soot, burns, or both. Their usual attire was charred and now sported tears and holes. Hair was singed down to the skin were patches showed up missing on several of them.

Julia's scowl deepened, arms crossed over her chest in fury. "That coward deserves to die for what he did to my dress!"

Reinhard mentally rolled his eyes at the comment. A feeling in the back of his mind bothered him. Finally, he took notice at something he had overlooked and wondered how he could have. "Vadim," he said with a light tone.

Heinrich cleared his throat for a moment. The Austrian counterpart glanced quickly at him before looking back out the window. He watched as a small flock of sparrows flew swiftly by, beating their small wings to stay aloft. He played the memories over again through his head for a third time, reviewing all that he had seen in a moment's glance. Slowly, he opened his mouth and spoke. "I witnessed him dispose of the younger Italian, but the last I saw was the wendigo running at him. Even if we tried to help, there would've been nothing we could've done. Bullets don't seem to affect the thing and we have no idea how to kill it otherwise." As the silence settled around the ground, Heinrich added a slow, "I'm sorry, Reinhard," before walking out of the room and back to the duties around Auschwitz.

A pain struck Reinhard in his chest, stopping his heart momentarily.

Octave rubbed the back of his neck at the uneasy tension that had settled. Gathering his voice, he said, "Reinha—"

Reinhard snapped fiercely at the sound of the letters. "Shut up!" Drawing his gun, he pointed it at the Frenchman who jumped back in surprise and fear. Reinhard gripped the trigger but caught himself a second before pulling it. Feeling his anger flare up inside of him like a thousand raging hornets, he stormed out, the tail of his coat the last they saw of him for the day.

Octave's muscles tightened up at the sound of several shots firing off not long after followed by a short scream before it was cut off as sudden as it sounded.

Sporting a look of confusion, Nathan eyed all the others' faces, taking in their individual expressions. They seemed just as confused as him. "I had no idea they were together." He realized the small tone of spite in his voice as he spoke, but if anyone had noticed, they showed no sign of it.

"Heinrich, Adolf, and I were the only ones who knew, ahru," said Ying as he straightened out his new robes. These were more comfortable than the ones that got scorched, but they wrinkled rather easily. He was glad these were only temporary. He hated to get them filthier than they already were. "Even Cesare was clueless about it."

"Speaking of the little noodle," Edward said in a contemplative tone. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his chin as he stared up at the ceiling. "Methinks that he has no idea what he be doing. To me he seems as vulnerable as a fish out of water." He was cautious with his words, unsure of what the others thought of this new subject.

Shinobu eyed the pirate suspiciously. His yellow eyes narrowed as Edward locked eyes with him, a little smirk pulled at his lips. "What are you getting at?"

Ignoring the Japanese, he broke eye contact to focus on the others. "No one has anything to say?"

Julia was the first to speak. "He doesn't at all. So we got the camps up and running. That's the biggest achievement he's made."

"He doesn't know how to run anything this big," Nathan growled. "Maybe he had his time in the mafia, but he's never handled anything bigger than that. Even with us, he's making no sense of this. Cesare doesn't even have a single idea on what to do next. All he's doing is rampaging the streets and collecting or killing people. He has no clue what to do after that's done. I haven't even gotten the chance to go back to my country because I can't trust any of the pilots. Besides that, we don't have the fuel for a jet."

Even with his earlier suspicion, Shinobu nodded in silent agreement but refrained from speaking.

"I think," Ying began, "that it is time to take the matter into our own hand."

"He's no stronger than each of us individually," Hernan observed with thought. "Our combined strength will be able to take him over quite easily."

"However," Edward spoke again, "do we kill him now and leave him for the vultures or do we wait?"

As they thought of their own opinions, a sly smirk came across Julia's thin lips. "I know exactly what we should do."


	22. Listen to the Rain

AN: So sorry I didn't get around to updating sooner. I've been occupied with other things. Here's another chapter. It's kinda short, but I'll update sooner than I did before. Don't worry, I'm never going to abandon this.

* * *

><p>"<em>When next we meet, hopefully under better circumstances, we will be allies in this war."<em>

* * *

><p>Germany pulled his head out of his hands. The fresh scent of the rain lingered around him as their camp was set under the trees for the rain not to soak them completely. His heart twisted in knots as the pain never seemed to cease.<p>

He clutched the little ball that hung around his neck; the warmth that came off it was unnatural and reminded him of the warmth given off from a fireplace in the dread of winter, sitting around the room with his family. He found a sense of security in the little orb as it seemed to whisper familiar words throughout his clouded and depressed mind.

Germany smiled remembering what England had said.

* * *

><p>England had pulled the man away from the main group as he noticed the multicolored orb hanging from the man's chest, bobbing ever so slightly at the pace of his slow, tedious steps. The bobbing of the orb made him smile without knowing reminding him of a certain curl that bobbed in a similar way.<p>

When Germany inquired why the secrecy of their conversation, England answered simply, "The orb. I need to inform you about it." When Germany didn't speak farther, England continued. "It was difficult for my magic to process and even more difficult to sculpt the spell for this—" he gestured at the little ball "—to serve its purpose."

England explained the process of the magic and formation of the spell. As Germany listened, he wondered where this was leading to. He listened intently to the words that came from the shorter man before him.

When England came to explain what the spell was for and what it was of use for, Germany's face twisted into an awestruck expression.

"I'm certain he would've already let you know," England said with a slight smile.

* * *

><p>Germany gave a light chuckle. Who would've thought it was even possible. To hold one's soul in such a small space.<p>

_It's not that small,_ the whisper said in a happy tone as it pushed against the thoughts of the wearer.

_I suppose not,_ he thought back. The comforting thought that his lover's soul was in his hands, in his safe grasp, calmed his mind. However, there was still an emptiness within. Even though Italy was there in his mind, he was never really there. Never could he hold him again, never could they kiss again.

* * *

><p>"What's the plan now?" Austria inquired to the group. He glanced over his shoulder at the man leaning against the tree. He wished that Germany would join in this conversation. He had a knack for devising battle strategies, but for the time being, they would have to do with what their minds could create.<p>

Romano shook his head. "There's-a no way we can defeat them alone. Who knows what kind of army they have been building. Our best bet is to surrender and beg for mercy."

Prussia beamed a glare at the dark-haired man. "Your vords are zat of a covard. How can you honestly live vis yourself? I von't see zis effort go to vaste just because you vant to put up ze damned vite flag and give up like a pig at ze slaughter! I know for a fact zat Italy vouldn't give up even at a time like zis!"

Romano was struck by the harsh words but turned his gaze away, trying to blink his eyes dry. He knew Prussia was right. He had to be strong and pull himself together.

England sighed. "He has a point, though. We won't be able to defeat them alone."

"We don't have the luxury of building an army or endless supplies for said army," France spoke up.

"No, we may not. However, we still declare this war and we will fight with whatever we can pool together and find. There's still plenty of countries out there that are hiding from this influence as well as we. They are our allies."

"And how do you intend to find them?"

England glanced at China and gave a knowing smile. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

* * *

><p>The priest opened his eyes and sucked in a quick breath. He coughed roughly as the pain in his chest slowly faded to a dull throbbing.<p>

"Angelo!" his brother quickly went to the other's side. He expressed concern and dread across his face.

Angelo nodded to an unspoken question. "Feliciano." He palmed the unseen wound as the pain went away. "He's been executed."

"What do we do now, Mr. High-and-Mighty?" the woman asked, turning to the angel with her arms crossed over her chest. "They've already had one death that we know of. Are we going to risk anymore while we just sit here and wait? We have to help them!"

Selaphiel sighed heavily and closed his eyes. White feathers grazed the ground while they lowered to relax. Thinking over all the options that played within his mind, he gave a short, quick nod. He knew Joan was right.

"When do we trek then?" Miyamoto asked, holstering his katana to his robes.

The dragon growled softly. His eyes glanced swiftly at the two priests as Clement aided his brother to his feet. "I can travel the farthest the fastest, hrr. Some can ride my back and the others can traverse with Nanook."

The polar bear gave a nod of his large head as a puff of air streamed through his nostrils.

"I can fly on my own," the angel said. "I'll go with Confucius. Angelo, Clement, Phil, and Miyamoto are coming with us. The rest can travel with the bear."

"How will we know where we're going?" Phil inquired, a puzzled look on his face.

The dragon was the one to speak. He gave a soft thrumming within his throat that vibrated the air around him. "You see, young one, we are split off of them. We are but mere copies of the original, as such the darker ones are, hrr. Look deep within yourself. Do you feel it? Something that seems to be pulling you in a certain direction, to a certain point. Ah, good. Now all you must do is follow that, wherever it may lead. That little pull of energy is our guide."

The golden dragon lifted himself to his feet. "Now come, we have business to take care of." The four eagerly and cautiously mounted the large dragon right at the crook of his neck. As Confucius lifted into the air, they gripped strands of his mane and hugged their thighs tight to the ribcage to keep from falling off. The air rushed around them like a swirling tornado but calmed as he hovered, waiting for Selaphiel. The added weight felt unsteady on his back, causing him to shift in the air to access balance.

Selaphiel turned toward the bear. "We'll meet you there."

"Godspeed, friends," he replied.

They were quickly on their way, flying high above the thickets of trees. The pull within them felt stronger now that they were heading towards their companions.


	23. Eyes Closing

Apologies for not posting in a while. Just been unmotivated and procrastinating horribly. I'll hopefully have the next one up by the end of the month. Again, apologies and hope that I can keep posting without random hiatuses.

* * *

><p>The arrival of the dragon startled the group. Many questions had been asked and fewer answered. Growing more irritated by the passing second, England had to quiet the countries long enough to explain the unexpected arrival.<p>

"It was when we were all the way back at Romano's house. However many months ago that was." He noticed how Romano uncomfortably scratched at the scar on his chest through his clothes at the memory brought back. "I figured that if things were to go astray—as they unfortunately have—to have a backup plan. For every enemy copy that gets separated from us, another copy does as well. I knew it wasn't going to be much, but it was something that would double, if not triple, our current strength."

"Looks like it worked," America said with a wide smile as his eyes darted to his double.

"Where are the others of us?" China asked.

His dragon counterpart answered for him, "They will be here within the next few days. It was a long journey for us; it shall be longer for them."

Phil brought up discussing battle plans and strategies right away, but they all ended up agreeing to wait for the others to arrive before planning anything. They needed their strength in numbers. Together is when they would be most powerful.

All the while, Prussia kept an eye on his little brother. He had seen the pained look cross his face when he had set eyes on Angelo. Germany had to excuse himself a few times, the tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. Prussia could sense his pain, and it pained him to see his brother this upset. He sighed and glanced at Russia who was sitting next to him by the fire. "If only I knew how to make him happy. I hate seeing him so miserable."

"Maybe you can ask the dragon," suggested Russia with a shrug. "Maybe he can do some magic."

Prussia let out a heavy sigh and looked to the ground. A blur of yellow caught his vision every few seconds as his feathered companion circled his head at the discomfort of his master. "I don't think it's quite possible."

Russia looked up to see the figure standing next to Prussia, though he seemed not to notice. If he did, he didn't react in any way. "Possible for what exactly?"

Prussia had to double-take at the voice. When the realization washed over him, he turned his face back to the fire. The tiny towers reflected their dance in his eyes. For his answer, he remained silent.

Russia stood up and briefly explained to Angelo the situation.

"Oh…" the Italian counterpart stared at Germany for a few moments. Noticing the orb around his neck, he questioned about it.

"I'm not even sure. He has not said anything to me about it," Prussia stated when they both looked at him for an answer. "Perhaps England knows."

"I will have a talk with him then." The priest walked away, a slight skip showed in his step as he went.

* * *

><p>"The orb holds the soul?" Angelo repeated what England explained. He gave a puzzled expression, wondering how it worked.<p>

England took notice of the look and spoke again, "It's an old type of magic I read about in an old manuscript. It must've been centuries old! Fascinating, isn't it; what spells and magic are capable of?"

"From what it seems, yes. It must be fascinating to be able to use magic."

"It has its perks as well as its downsides."

Angelo nodded in understanding. His lips pulled tight as the thought crossed his mind. A sudden fear struck deep within him. Nonetheless, he opened his mouth to speak. His suggestion surprised England. The man rested his chin in his hand, pondering to himself if it would work or not.

"I must be honest. It may not. If we were even to attempt it, we would need stronger magic than what I'm capable of."

Angelo turned on a heel and stared at the dragon that was currently sleeping. His thick chest expanded and contracted as large amounts of air swept in his nostrils and through his system. "What about Confucius?"

England half smiled and replied, "I'll speak to him when he wakes up." He looked up at the light blue sky above before adding, "I think I'll take a nap as well." Thus following the golden dragon's example, he went to rest.

Curiosity bugged him, twiddling his thumbs as he sat, forgotten, in a patch of sun. The little bear lay by his side taking in the warmth of the sun. Sensing his owner's frustration, he cuddled closer. Noticing the action, Canada rubbed his hand through the white fur. The soft fur brushing against his skin calmed him some, but he was still frantic in his mind.

"Just ask them," Kumajiro calmly blurted out followed by a yawn. What a nice day to relax and nap, considering how cold it's been with the heart of winter coming through.

Canada's mind froze at the thought. "I shouldn't. It might bother them."

Kumajiro opened his eyes and peered up into the lavender ones. "It won't hurt."

Thinking it over for the next few moments, Canada nodded. He stood up and left the polar bear to bask as he walked towards one of the newcomers. The angel noticed his presence and welcomed it. "You're so quiet," he greeted.

Canada laughed lightly at the comment. "I get that a lot."

"I know. It wouldn't hurt to speak up every now and again. Especially at a time like this." Selaphiel shifted his wings and pulled a loose feather that had been bugging him for the last half hour. Twirling the seven-inch-long feather between his finger and thumb, he continued, "But that's not why you approached me, is it?"

Canada shook his head.

"Then speak and be heard."

"Um… I was wondering…" He paused unsure of how to phrase the next few words. "It was a wendigo. My other half."

The information caught the angel's attention more. "Was it now?"

"Mhm."

Selaphiel could already guess what the man was asking. "A rather large polar bear," he answered. "Goes by the name of Nanook."

Canada's eyes brightened as if hit by an intense ray of light. "Nanook?" The news excited him and a shiver ran through the core of his body.

Selaphiel tossed the feather without a second glance and folded his arms. "Could you explain more?" He was rather interested in the history of the polar bear.

A smile broke wide over the Canadian's face. "The master of the bears. Nanook is an Inuit deity. He is the one who decided if hunters deserved to hunt bears and punished violations of taboos."

"What sort of taboos?"

"Oh, uh, like women weren't allowed to sew caribou skins in snow houses that were built on the sea ice during the months of darkness or while the men were hunting walruses. Many other taboos required the strict separation of anything having to do with land and sea animals."

"A very interesting culture your people had back at the time."

"It was. It's not a hard way of living… as long as the cold doesn't bother you."

"How long has it been since you've been away from your home?"

Canada blinked. The sudden feeling of homesickness hit him as he suddenly realized he had almost forgotten about his house during the events taking place. "About a year," he answered with a sinking feeling in his chest.

Selaphiel noticed the change in his expression and set a firm hand on the country's shoulder. "This will all be over with soon enough. It may take a couple of years for the world to return to normal, but the time will come. Just keep hope up."

Canada locked eyes with the man and gave a short nod. Having nothing more to converse about, the two went back to their separate activities.

It was several hours before the dragon awoke and granted England the chance to speak with him.

"You realize what you are asking, do you not?" the dragon asked. An unfriendly growl followed after his words. His gleaming teeth showed slightly with his anger.

"It's dark magic, I know—"

"You do not know! What you are asking is taboo in and of itself! It is playing with the cycle of life and death. It is the blackest of magics and cannot be trusted even with such a simple task. No, I will not grant this. Do not ask me again." The dragon turned away from and said nothing more.

England sighed. He couldn't have expected that to go well. He knew what he was asking. It was a risk, he knew, to bring the dead back to life. An idea suddenly struck him. England thought the process over in his head before confronting the dragon again.

"What about switching a soul?"

It was several minutes before the dragon finally turned his head and eyed England again. "It would require a volunteer and possibly a sacrifice if I believe I know what you plan."

England bit his lip. A sacrifice? A life for a life. He nodded to himself before gathering the group together and explaining his thoughts to the countries and counterparts. Every shared the similar expression of shock and awe at the words England threw out. None hit more than "sacrifice." All was quiet when the word slipped off his tongue, and so it was for a quiet a few moments.

"Now wait just a damned minute!" Clement shouted shattering the silence. "You expect me to just sit back and let you take my brother for a god damned experiment!"

"Fratello," Angelo scolded.

"No! I won't let these bastards take you away and make a sacrifice out of you!"

"Actually," Confucius butted in, "since the two souls are essentially the same, they will only merge. Your brother will still be there if this is all agreed upon. No, there will need to be another to sacrifice themselves."

"I will not agree upon this." Germany spoke with a harsh yet kind tone. "I appreciate that you would do this for me, but I don't want to see anyone sacrifice themselves for my wants."

Italy stayed silent within the orb as the colors swirled slowly around like twinkling magma.

"Even with that, the offer is still open to anyone," England concluded. "We'll give a few hours for you all to discuss this and think it over."

Most of them wouldn't take much of a second thought about it. They were concerned, that wasn't to doubt, but they all knew Germany. As usual in the world meetings, his word was final—when he got pushed to that point that is. They all knew he wouldn't have it, and he'd find a way to convince or force them not to sacrifice themselves for something like this, no matter how important it was to him.

However, there was one person that could get by Germany's boundaries. And he knew just that, too.

"You are taking the little Italian's place?" the big golden dragon asked.

A sigh escaped the man's mouth. A sigh of acceptance and realizing where his path had led him. His arms wrapped tighter around the Russian that carried him for his legs gave no heave to his motions. A little bird perched atop his head shivered furiously, knowing well what would happen to his master. "Yes, I'm no use to anyone without my legs," Prussia said.

"I can always heal your legs if you would want to. It is no trouble at all."

Prussia smiled weakly and shook his head. "No, it's all right. It's what I want to do. I don't want to see my little brother taking to a piece of jewelry for the rest of his life. It hurts him, I know it does."

"Then you shall gather the priest and Ludwig as well."

Prussia nodded and looked down at Russia. No words passed between them as they went to get Angelo.

"Don't do it, fratellino," Clement begged. His hand gripped tight to his brother's. "Please don't do it."

Angelo smiled. No worry showed up in his eyes at all. Just a pure, genuine sense of calm and serenity. "I will do what I feel is right. That's our job as priests. Follow the will of God and follow the right paths in life, no matter how it affects us. I will still shine through with Feliciano when he returns to physical form. And I will always be with you."

Tears wet the older priest's cheeks. He pulled his brother into a strong embrace before letting go and accepting what he had to do. "I will be with you all the way."

Angelo nodded. "As will I."

The time came now for Prussia to confront his brother. This, he knew, would be no easy task.

"I won't let you do it!" Germany said with a stern look. "You've already lost your legs—"

"And now that I have," Prussia interrupted, "I'm not very much of use anymore."

"I am sure the dragon can heal your legs."

Prussia's face turned more serious. "I don't want him to. I want to see you happy and with Italy."

Germany put his hands on Prussia's shoulder. "We need you here, bruder. Alive. We need you to fight with us."

Gilbert smiled and choked out a laugh. "You're so military. It's not all about the fighting. What happens after the fighting? When we win? Will you be really happy without Italy there to bug you all the time? Or will you grow content to the quiet and solitude as you were many years ago?"

Germany remained silent for some time. He mulled over what his brother had just spoken.

"I need to do this for your sake, brother… Don't worry though! I'll still be here," he smiled, trying to reassure Germany that everything will be all right even if he knew he was lying through his teeth.

Germany pulled Prussia into a warm and tight embrace. "Ich liebe dich, bruder," he said through light sobs.

Prussia patted Germany on his back. "I love you, too, little bro. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

The dragon watched them gather and then spoke some words in his native tongue. "Are you all prepared?"

They all gave nods, some quick and some hesitant.

"Good." He turned to Prussia still being held by the Russian. "This will not hurt. You have much courage to go through with this." Then he began his ritual. His whiskers touched the foreheads of both Angelo and Prussia. After several seconds, they both knocked out. Clement caught his brother before he fell to the ground.

Germany let out a light shout and pulled the orb away from him. The stone became white with heat and sizzled and crackled as the seconds passed by. Without warning, the stone erupted into hundreds of little shards, scattering themselves around before falling to the ground. Angelo gave a large gasp and coughed as if he was using his lungs for the first time. The Italian opened his eyes and looked around slowly. He pulled his arms around himself and began shivering. "It's cold," he said in a lighter tone than his normal voice.

"Italy?" Germany asked.

Italy perked at the familiar voice. "Germany!" He turned on his heels and reached out for him, wrapping his arms around the man. "It's so nice to hug you again!" Light laughter filled his voice as he happily snuggled his face into the man's chest. "You're so warm!"

Germany smiled and embraced him back. A cold realization soon sunk in. "Prussia." He let go of Italy and went to Prussia who was now set on the ground. Russia was by his side, holding a hand between his. "Bruder!" He dropped to his knees next to him. His chest was still as a windless day. Angered, he turned to the dragon. "What happened to him?"

"Just as what was told before. A life for a life. If you are wondering why the orb did not take his soul, it is simple. The orb was made for someone specific. The materials for the creation of such an orb are rare and can take millennia to collect. Arthur was lucky enough to have what he did to create even a temporary such as that one. You should be thankful Feliciano was spared and brought back at all. Anything else I would have refused to perform."

Germany turned back to his limp brother and hugged him close. His shoulders heaved heavily, the tears rolling down his cheeks. The little yellow bird flew frantically above them, peeping mournfully and desperately, pleading for his owner to wake.

Everyone looked at each other and nodded. They turned away and walked, leaving Germany to have some time to himself. All but Italy that is. He stood there, the robes draped over his shivering body. Both from the cold and from the sorrow. The dragon still watched them from afar, eyeing them with great concern although he did not show this concern at all. He huffed a white fog through his nostrils that drifted up before evaporating into the cold air around them.

Not knowing what to say, Italy kneeled next to Germany, hugging him softly. "I'm sorry, Germany," he muttered into his jacket.

Germany wrapped an arm around Italy's shoulder. "He wanted this. He knew it would turn out like this and yet he chose to do so anyway." The bird lit on Prussia's shoulder and cuddled next to his neck, ruffling his feathers due to the cold of the skin.

"I wish there could've been another way."

Germany silenced himself afterwards. He stuck to himself for the rest of the day other than deciding what to do with Prussia's body. His heart broke when it was decided, but he knew it would be the best. With a hot stream of fire, the dragon scorched and cremated the remains. Everyone watched as the body slowly turned to ash. He looked so peaceful, and there seemed to be the remnants of a smile formed on his lips.

"Have you ever listened to the rain?"

Germany looked down at the man standing next to him. The fire warmed and lit his face with orange and yellow. "What do you mean?"

England sniffled and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. "The rain. Have you ever noticed that it speaks?"

Germany sighed. Great, another one of England's weird fantasy stories. "The rain doesn't speak."

"Ah, but it does, my friend. If you ever get a chance, or remember, to when it rains. The drops speak, telling us their stories before they hit the ground. They can tell us legends of old or tales of new. Mostly, they speak just to comfort us in our times of need. That's why it always seems to rain during a point of tragedy. They search frantically for someone to hear before they hit ground. For when someone is sad, the rain is also sad, weeping for the loss."

Germany stayed silent while England spoke. He didn't mock him in his mind. He just listened closely. Everyone seemed to at this point.

"Sometimes, they even carry the words of loved ones that have passed for us. The rain is a magical thing, it is. So, just do me and Prussia a favor and listen next time."

Germany looked back at the fire and nodded slowly. He was still taking everything in and was unsure what the crazy nation was talking about, but it wouldn't hurt to try anyway. He closed his eyes and a few tears fell as his throat choked.

* * *

><p>Not a week passed since and the others from travel had arrived. It was great for them to see more reinforcements. The bear huffed, carrying a sleeping other on his back. "He's been in pain the last day or so," Nanook said to the dragon. "What happened?"<p>

"See for yourself."

The bear looked around the camp and his mouth opened faintly in understanding. "I take it—"

Confucius nodded before the bear finished, knowing what he was going to ask. "Yes, he is not doing so well."

The bear blow a hot stream of steam from his black nose and walked over to Germany. "I am sorry for your loss, mighty nation."

Germany nodded and thanked the bear but noticed the man on his back. "Is that…?"

"Indeed it is. Hughes he calls himself." The man groaned and shifted slightly at the sound of his name but did not lift his head. "He is weak. Give him some time to come around."

"Um… E-Excuse me." The great bear turned his head to look over his shoulder. His counterpart wrapped in an orange sweater looked up at him. "Are.. Are you…"

Nanook sensed Canada's distress and turned. "I am your counterpart." His distress confused him however. "What are you upset about?"

Canada bit his lip, reconsidering talking, but he looked back at the bear. "My-my other… He was.."

"Ah, the wendigo. Yes, I know of that. There is no need to worry about him. No need to fear him. He is a part of you still and will respect that if he has any sense of our spirit inside of him. Does this calm you?"

Canada nodded, though still unsure about the whole situation. He reached out and embraced the neck of Nanook. The bear smiled and set a giant paw around his back. "Everything will be all right." Canada nodded. He felt the warmth come off the bear, the slow and steady breathing. This calmed his nerves more than words could.

"Well, now that we're all here, what are we going to do?" Selaphiel asked towards Joan. With such great war history behind her, he would be able to generalize a foolproof plan for this war.

She kept throwing off her gaze to eye the man who had eyes locked on her since her arrival. And she knew why. It wasn't going to be easy for either of them. Clearing her throat, she said, "We have no idea what the enemy is planning. This war is going to be fought fiercely. We need to gain an army. Volunteers mostly. We can't fight this with just us with the force of hundreds behind their back."

Selaphiel sighed. "This feels like the next World War."

"Might as well be," she confirmed. "Dozens of nations fighting against each other. Sounds like one to me."

"What's your plan on gaining reinforcements?"

"No doubt our enemy will have their people infested into every city, and one of them leading. As for our nations in general, they could've either escaped in time or been enslaved or executed. I'm not too fond of the latter, however. It's always a tragedy for a country to die in the hands of war. We have already lost too many over the past centuries.

"I've immersed myself into thinking this through, and I know that we must start by gaining cities. We'll need large supplies for a large army. We'll wage battles against the enemy and slowly regain what we have lost."

"Where will we start?"

"North or east. I would say most likely with China and Japan or Russia since their counterparts have left the country. Though, most likely, they will race to the country's aid as soon as word travels to them that they have been invaded."

"It will be better than anything. Then we can force them down one at a time."

Joan nodded. "We're going to need a lot of men and women and weapons. All kinds. New and old. Metal and stone. This is going to be one hell of a war, but it's not going to be an impossible one."

All the while Italy was writing a letter. He had gotten to thinking to himself and wanted to send something out. How he would get it to arrive at its destination he would find out later. He hummed as he did so, hoping that who he wrote to would compile their kindness into doing just this. He scratched the pencil to the paper, trying to figure out more intellectual words to use to come off as more formal than he was. However, the piece of bark was quite difficult to write on and how did he even get the pencil anyway? Oh, right, he took it from England. England was always writing in that journal of his. He would return it whenever he was done. What was England writing anyway? Probably a journal of their journeys. Italy giggled slightly and how the words sounded similar as he thought about it. It tickled his fancy.

Italy folded the attempt of writing a letter and looked around. How would he get this letter out? He spotted a dull yellow against the brown of a tree. He smiled though he frowned as well. Could he really ask this much of the little bird? He walked over and tapped the little canary gently. When he looked, Italy asked, "Could you do me a favor?"


End file.
